The Snake & The Lion
by myheartisyours0523
Summary: He finds himself, suddenly, wanting all of Kurt. All of him. Every flaw, perfection, fear, dream, hope, emotion, everything.   As the Slytherin pulls away,he knows that Kurt is not his to want. Not his to have, or hold, or even pine over. Hogwarts!Klaine
1. Chapter 1

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>There are footsteps against the stone floor. Kurt's pressed flush against the cool oak door.<p>

His thin fingers are wrapped tightly around his wand; his knuckles have turned white. He can feel lightness in his chest, a weakness in his knees that's always directly followed by strength and adrenaline.

The footsteps get closer.

His heart pounds in his chest.

There's a pause.

Kurt holds his breath.

They start again.

It's time.

"_Expelliarmus!" _

There's a clatter, and Kurt spins around the corner just in time to see Anderson's wand rolling smoothly toward him. He bends and snatches it; Anderson lets out a little shout of shock that Kurt was bound to use against him in the future.

When the countertenor looks up, though, Anderson doesn't look surprised. In fact, his arms are crossed over his chest and he's heaving a deep sigh that somehow irritates Kurt more than his normally arrogant face did.

"Can I help you, Hummel?"

"Help me?" Kurt smirks and gestures down at himself. "What could you possibly do to help this?"

"What is that, a Mumu?"

"I should curse you for even suggesting that."

"I implore you to try."

"I'm sure you'd implore me to do a lot of other things too, Anderson."

"Careful, Hummel, if your head gets any bigger, you might not fit the whole thing into your mirror in the morning."

"At least I don't look like a badly dressed nerd."

"At least I'm not wearing _that_."

"Dior skinnies do not resemble a Mumu."

"You're wearing pants under that? Praise the Gods, Hummel's dressed like a boy for once."

"You can obviously _see _my pants, Anderson."

"Can I?"

"You could in Potions. Couldn't really take your eyes off my ass, could you?"

"Fuck you."

"If you want."

Anderson slaps a hand over his eyes and his posture slouches. Kurt's sneer slips into a sincere smile before he can stop it. From under his hand, Anderson mumbles, "I suppose you're getting me back for cursing you in front of Finn?"

Kurt's heart drops into his navel. He feels his cheeks inflame; Anderson peeks at him from between his fingertips and smirks.

"I couldn't care less about Hudson." He manages with cold distain; Anderson's hazel eyes twinkle sickeningly with recognition.

"You only come after me if you've been provoked, Hummel. By me or by Wes or David or whatever. And you really didn't like when I used _locomoto_r yesterday, did you? Don't worry, I don't think Finn minded helping you up. "

Kurt's fingers curled into a fist. "He's a Gryffindor. I despise Gryffindors."

"But he's a tall, handsome, athletic Gryffindor, Hummel. Isn't he?"

He winks.

Kurt has the sudden urge to inflict physical pain to the boy's face.

So he strides across the room and smashes his fist into Anderson's nose. He drops both of their wands in the process, but he doesn't care; he watches appreciatively as Anderson doubles over, cursing and pressing blood away from his mouth.

Taking a step forward, he presses his mouth to Anderson's ear and breathes, "Mention Finn again and I swear, you won't have a nose next time."

Turning on his heel, he swoops to pick up Anderson's wand, tosses it lightly out the window, and disappears around a corner.

* * *

><p>"What happened to you?" Finn's dopey smile disappears the second Blaine staggers into the common room.<p>

On account of all the blood pouring through both his nostrils, Blaine can only manage the words "Hummel" and "Fix."

Finn waves his wand awkwardly – and Blaine holds his breath, because really, this kid was never very good at spells in general – and then gives a lopsided smile when the shorter boy's nose snaps back into place and the blood flow lessens.

"Thanks, man." Blaine wipes his nose haphazardly on his cloak, trying to clear his face of the rapidly drying liquid. "Stupid asshole threw my wand out the twelfth floor window, too."

Finn shuffles his feet and mutters "_Accio Blaine's wand_", before catching the slim piece of wood with surprising skill as it zoomed at his face.

"I would offer to beat him up for you, dude, but my mom is going to marry his dad, so…that'd be one awkward family dinner." The apologetic look on Finn's face is sincere; Blaine waves him off without a second glance.

"Cheers, man. I need a shower."

And as Blaine tears off his robes and slips into the warm bath, he tries to think of a reason to hate Hummel. He tries to think of the reason that they started fighting, when they started to despise each other.

He can't really remember when they stopped being friends and became enemies. Somewhere between tea parties and playing house, they had found differences that because too large to ignore anymore. He guesses that he's always been jealous of Kurt's unchangeable self awareness, of his incredible strength and unwillingness to be anything different.

So when he had been sorted into Gryffindor their first year and there was a backward glance shared between them as the perfectly coifed head slid onto the Slytherin bench, he realized then and there that they would probably never speak again.

And then, second year, Blaine had deflected a jinx aimed at his head and it hit Kurt instead.

Furious, Kurt had retaliated.

It had been Finn that told the Slytherin later that Blaine was only trying to protect himself.

But it was too late; suddenly, they were trying to hex each other whenever possible. Suddenly, one of them would walk to the lavatory and would risk the chance of being ambushed by the other. It was like a very annoying game of hide and seek mixed with checkers, except it never came to an end.

Blaine sighs and pulls himself out of the water with a little groan of distaste. He pulls his robes back on, drains the bath, and steps quietly into the hallway, holding his wand aloft.

There's not a sound, but then again, Hummel has mastered the art of ninja-like subtlety.

Blaine takes another step and then, from behind him, someone clears their throat.

"_Stupify_!" He shouts wildly, swinging his wand arm around; the jinx hits Hummel in the left knee. He topples over, body hitting the floor with a loud thump. Blaine's heart races as he crosses the floor and looks down into the Slytherin's face. "Jesus, Hummel, you already broke my nose today. And I'll take this now."

He snatches Hummel's wand from near the taller boy's kneecap and shoves it ceremoniously unto his pocket before turning to walk away.

But something stops him.

It just didn't make sense; technically, it was Blaine's turn to initiate the attack. He tilts his head, unable to come up with a good explanation, and mutters the counter curse quietly under his breath.

The Slytherin glares, his eyes locked on the outline of his wand in Blaine's right pocket. "Can I have it back?"

Blaine arches an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Hummel sighs. "Look, we're even right now. I actually came to talk to you, but your misleading Spidey Senses stopped me from doing that."

"You'd like a word with me? Not a chance, Hummel."

As he turns to walk away for the second time – and this time, he actually takes a few strong steps – Hummel makes an exasperated noise and drawls, "It's about Finn."

Blaine's feet halt, almost unconsciously; when he turns, he asks himself _what exactly the fuck he was doing. _

But curiosity had always been a Gryffindor's downfall.

Hummel's propped himself up on his elbows, but remains stretched out on the floor; Blaine wonders if it's an act of good will, or if the clever kid is just giving him a false sense of security in order to draw him in.

"What about Finn?" He asks, swallowing lightly as Hummel reaches up to fix his perfect hair.

"I need some information."

Blaine reaches into his pocket and pulls Hummel's wand for the depths; he rolls it between his fingers in a menacing way that Hummel doesn't fail to notice. "Information?"

"You really have the wits of a Baboon that's been relocated to Florida." Hummel snaps, pushing himself off the ground and leaning nonchalantly against the stone wall.

"What type of information?"

Hummel suddenly looks very uncomfortable. "I need you to swear yourself to secrecy."

"Fine, I swear." The Slytherin gives him a look. "Oh, that's right. We hate each other and constantly try to hex the living shit out of each other. You don't trust me."

"Says the boy flaunting my own wand in my face."

Blaine looks down at it, almost surprised at its existence in his hand. After a moment, he tosses it pointedly at Hummel's nose; the taller boy snatches it out of the air with surprisingly fast reflexes.

"So, what do you want? My middle finger?"

"No."

"What then?"

Hummel smirks a little as he stows his hand in his pocket and holds his arms carefully across his slim chest. "Insurance."

"You want to black mail me?" Blaine shakes his curly head in disbelief. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

The Slytherin takes a step forward, eyes glowing. Blaine represses the urge to draw his wand; if trust was what Hummel wanted, he was going to get it.

They're close now; Blaine realizes two things in a matter of seconds. One, this was probably the closest the two had been since they were ten, and two, "puke-green" didn't even begin to describe the swirl of color in Hummel's eyes. He would say now, if asked, that they were a marine mixture of green and blue. He can count every long eyelash and there's a smattering of freckles across the boy's nose that he'd never noticed before. Every breath the Slytherin takes or releases is mixed with Blaine's own short breathing; he notices suddenly that his heart is banging hard against his chest.

He can't help it when his eyes dart down to Hummel's lips; they're full and red and he suddenly finds himself wondering what they taste like.

A cool laugh brushes over his face. "I _knew _you were gay, Anderson."

Blaine meets his eyes with resentment. "I'm not hiding that fact."

"Hm."

"Wh—"

But then Hummel's lips are pressing into his, soft at first, then harder.

Blaine shoves him back without a second thought. "What the hell?"

"Insurance." Hummel repeats, amusement flickering over his features. Blaine wrinkles his nose. "Tell anyone what I'm about to ask you and everyone finds out that you made out with your worst enemy on the sixth floor. Got it?"

Blaine wipes disgustedly at his mouth. "Fine!"

"Does he ever talk about me?"

"Of course not, he hates—" Blaine's eyes flick up and he finds a very different Kurt Hummel standing in front of him. Instead of a scowl or smirk, his lips are pressed into a thin line. His shoulders are slumped instead of squared, and he's hugging himself with limp arms. Blaine awkwardly shuffles his feet. "I mean…We don't talk about Slytherins unless we're bashing them, so…"

Hummel hugs himself tighter. "I just thought…I—We talk a lot. During Charms."

Blaine runs a hand through his still damp hair and racks his brain for any time that Finn may have mentioned Hummel at all. He can only come up with when he said he would beat the Slytherin up if he could, so he says, "Um, he said you were a good Keeper that one time."

Hummel's eyes narrow suspiciously. "I play Chaser."

"That's what I meant."

"Is he still pining over that Jewish hobbit?" Blaine assumes that he's referring to Rachel; he lifts one shoulder. Hummel throws up his hands in exasperation. "What are you good for, Anderson? I should have just hexed you."

"It's not like I go prying into Finn's life! We're not even that good of friends! We talk about stuff like Quidditch and American football and fixing cars!"

"I can fix cars."

Blaine raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You can?"

Hummel ignores him and slaps a hand over his eyes. "Listen, Anderson…I need you to do something for me."

"Sorry?"

"Could you -" He peeks out from between his ling fingers and sighs loudly. "I can't believe I'm asking you this, but…could you ask him about me and then possibly report it back?"

Blaine folds his arms. "You know you're asking me to spy on my friend, right? _You _are asking _me. _Your sworn enemy._"_

"I'd like to think of us more as rivals."

"Hummel."

"Yes, I understand, okay? Please just do it."

"I'll think about it."

"What?"

"I'll _think about it._"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." Blaine turns on his heel, calling back over his shoulder, "Give me until Potions."

"We don't have potions until Wednesday!"

"Exactly."

"Fuck you, Anderson."

"If you want."

* * *

><p>Kurt doesn't stop hugging himself until he's safely tucked away in his warm bed in the Slytherin dormitories. As he breathes in the soft smell of laundry detergent and his own shampoo, he wonders vaguely if he's made the worst decision a person with a crush could ever make.<p>

He doesn't sleep much that night; he mostly tosses and turns, visions of Finn and Anderson sharing a laugh over his pathetic attempt to gain some type of access into Finn's love life keeping him awake.

He'd sacrificed part of his pride, telling Anderson about Finn. And Kurt considered himself a particularly prideful person.

He rolls over.

He isn't sure, exactly, what it is about that particular Gryffindor; maybe it was the way his big, Bambi eyes always manage to pass over Kurt like he isn't there. If there was one thing Kurt was used to, it was standing out, being noticed.

Anderson had the habit of making him feel invisible, and Kurt detested him for it.

He falls asleep with Anderson's smug smirk etched in his mind.

After what only seemed to be an hour or so, a voice shakes him out of his thoughts. "Are you awake?"

"No, Puckerman, I'm asleep."

"Really?"

"Just shut up."

"You'd better get up; practice starts in thirty."

Kurt's heart jumps into his throat. He sits up and glances at the clock next to his bed. "I thought Gryffindor had early practice today."

Puck pulls a long sleeved tee shirt over his head, voice muffled as he answers, "They do. Santana wants us to watch them, figure out their weaknesses and such."

Kurt doesn't bother to mention that watching the other team was cheating; he knows neither Puck nor Santana will care. It came with being a Slytherin, he guessed; not caring for other people's feelings.

So he tromps around the dormitory, pulling on his Quidditch clothes and haphazardly running a hand through his hair. He knew it wouldn't matter if he tried to style it. It would just be ruffled by the wind while he was flying.

The rest of the team is waiting in the common room; Kurt notices several players hiding yawns behind their hands as their fiery captain shoots them dirty looks. Together, they all grab their brooms and head down staircase after staircase, until fresh, cool air hits their faces and they can all seem to breathe easier.

The Gryffindor team is already flying when they get to the pitch. Kurt spots Finn the second he comes into view. He's so unsteady on his broom that it was amazing that he ever accomplishes anything; as it turns out, though, Finn is the best beater on the team.

Anderson's there too; he's flying low, skimming the ground with the tips of his fingers as he dives back up. Kurt scowls.

Did that boy _ever _stop showing off?

"Lopez!" The Gryffindor captain stomps toward them, wand held tightly in his right hand. "We have the pitch this morning!"

Santana steps forward, fist stuck deep into her robes, probably holding tight to her own wand. "Do you, Evans? Puckerman, did you know about this?"

"Nope!" Puck answers happily, shooting a sharp scowl at the blonde captain.

"I posted it on the roster, Santana. I know you saw it."

She feigns misunderstanding. "You know, Sam, don't think I did. I guess we'll just have to sit and wait for you guys to be done."

"Get the f—"

"Hey, Kurt!"

Kurt feels his heart skip a beat. Finn's beside Evans with that wonderfully dopey smile on his face, big chocolate eyes glued to Kurt's surprised features. "Hey, Finn."

Santana gives him a _what the hell? _look that he returns with a one shouldered shrug; an idea seems to click in her head. "Changed my mind, Evans. We'll leave if Kurt can stay."

Kurt blinks. "What?"

Puckerman leans close to him and says, "Evans has the rep of calling Madam Hooch; Santana's gotten in trouble with her too many times. This way, you can still spy, but we won't get in trouble. "

"Fine." Evans says exasperatedly, throwing his wand back into his pocket and stomping back toward the pitch. Finn's smile widens as the Slytherin team turns around and starts heading back to the castle, leaving Kurt standing awkwardly in the morning sun.

"Hummel?"

"Oh, _Jesus._"

"Don't look so happy to see me." His tee shirt is rolled up to his elbows and, even in the cold, a pair of Quidditch gym shorts sit low on his hips. There's a smirk on his lips that makes Kurt want to break his nose again; Finn glances between them nervously, rocking back on his heels in anticipation.

Kurt looks at the tall boy and asks curtly, "Finn, can you give Anderson and me a moment alone?"

He seems almost relieved as he ambles away.

Anderson throws a hand through his curls and regards Kurt with a curious expression. "You want to know if I'd considered it yet."

He doesn't have to answer; he just stares at Anderson pointedly until the boy looks away.

"I'll do it."

Kurt's marine eyes widen. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah." Anderson lifts one shoulder. "You seem miserable. But I'm not doing it for free."

"What do you want?"

The smirk is back. "I want you to promise that I won't be hexed for the next six months by any of your friends, or you."

"Fine."

"And whatever Finn tells me, I get to decide if you hear it or not."

"But –"

"Take it or leave it, Hummel."

Kurt's eyes run over his face, over his sweaty brow and amused hazel eyes, down to the hand that he'd stuck out. He stares at it for a few moments before grasping it firmly in his and murmuring, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Really."

* * *

><p><strong><em>So. :)<em>**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**

**_Preview:_**

_There's no retort; Hummel is just staring at him. Blaine moves his fingers to the edges of his glasses self consciously and pushes them back up his nose, saying, "It's Saturday, okay? I didn't feel like wearing my contacts."_

_Hummel's eyes flick upward. "You're wearing a ski cap too."_

_"It's a beanie, and yes, I am. Was critiquing my weekend wardrobe really worth royal pissing the ancient librarian?"_

_Hummel seems to sort himself and manages a firm, "No."_

_Blaine flips a page in his textbook and flourishes at the air with his hand, motioning for the Slytherin to declare his purpose._

_"I might have told Finn that we're together."_


	2. Chapter 2

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>Blaine rubs his eyes. The fire flickers, warm on his face. He rubs at his nose with his knuckle and flips another page in his runes book. In all truth, he was only absorbing %2 of the text under his eyes; the fire, the warmth, and the late hour all made him lethargic.<p>

The common room is silent except for the crackle of fire and the occasional portrait yawning behind his or her hand; he feels his eyes start to drop, lids too heavy to keep open anymore.

And then –

"Hey, Blaine?" Tentative and quiet. Blaine blinks.

"Jeremy, what's up?"

The first year shuffles uncomfortably. "Well, I was out…walking and when I came back to the portrait, there was a really angry Slytherin standing outside it, yelling at the Fat Lady to let him in. He's looking for you."

Blaine sits up straighter. "A Slytherin?"

Jeremy nods.

"Okay. Thank you, Jeremy. Go to bed before you get caught."

As soon as Blaine gets close to the portrait, he can hear Hummel's vicious tone issuing from the other side.

"…Listen to me, you vile lump of seasonal sweaters, I need to speak to him urgently, as in – That kid? He looked about as smart as you! He'll probably forget what he was supposed to tell Anderson in the off chance that he actually – No, _you _listen here, you unforgivable tw—"

Blaine uses one hand to swing the portrait forward and the other to retract his wand from his pocket. "What on _earth _is happening out here?"

"Anderson! Finally! This useless old hefer wouldn't let me –"

Blaine subtly replaces his wand and steps down from the porthole; the Gryffindor holds up a hand to the still raging Slytherin and pivots to address the picture hanging behind them.

"I would like to apologize on behalf of Mr. Hummel for his awful attitude and language. Apparently he was never educated on the use of _passwords_ here at Hogwarts. Again, my apologies." She sniffs resentfully. Blaine turns to Hummel and, after a moment of consideration, takes his hand carefully in his own. "He gets very crabby when we're apart for too long."

And, as Hummel huffs an annoyed breath, Blaine promptly begins to drag him back down the corridor and ceremoniously shoves him into an empty classroom with a little more force than was probably necessary.

He pulls his hand away from Hummel's slim one and the Slytherin makes a show of wiping it disgustedly on his shirt. "What is it?"

"I was hoping for an update."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes?"

"Hummel, I thought I made it clear that this would all happen on _my terms, _on _my time _and –"

He throws his hands of in exasperation and says loudly, "Anderson, I'm in love with him!"

There's a thick silence while Blaine gapes at him and tries to think of an appropriate response to that type of declaration. The Slytherin hugs himself and then shrugs one shoulder weakly.

"So I got impatient. You would too."

"Fine." Blaine chews at his bottom lip and crosses his arms, racking his mind for any mention of Hummel that had left Finn's lips that day. "He brought you up when I mentioned that cardigans look lumpy on most people. He pointed out that nothing could ever make you look lumpy because you're tall and thin."

Even in the dim light, Blaine could see Hummel's cheeks blush bright red. He likes that mixture of embarrassment and delight more than Hummel's usual scowl, so he continues.

"And…we decided that you're probably the best Chaser on any of the Quidditch teams."

"Thank you."

"Did you really –"

"Thank you, Finn. I wasn't talking to you."

"Good." There's a little sigh in the darkness, and Hummel unfolds his arms to rub tiredly at his temple. Blaine feels the tiredness in his own joints; it weighs him down and makes him ask quietly, "Can I give you more tomorrow? It's late."

"Yes. Of course. Thank you."

"Was that one meant for me?"

"Yes, you jackass."

* * *

><p>Kurt pulls the cuff of his long sleeved shirt over his fingers; the cold nips bitterly at them as he takes carefully aimed steps toward the castle.<p>

He'd only been able to endure thirty minutes of Quidditch practice. After flying for a good twenty minutes whilst shaking like a leaf, Santana had dismissed him with a wave of her hand. It had been foolish to venture out to the pitch with only his green and silver jersey on, but now he was stepping over icy stones and frozen grass in order to get back to the warmth of the castle.

"Kurt?"

His heart skips a beat, because there's Finn, ambling awkwardly toward him, wrapped tightly in a puffy maroon sweater that Kurt would have died for.

"Finn! What are you doing out here still?" He blunders forward, words tripping over themselves. Finn wields a thick bat in from of his eyes. "Oh. Right. You stayed after."

They walk a little in silence; the only sound if Finn's big feet crunching the thin layer of snow on the ground.

"You look cold."

"I'm not." Kurt lies, but Finn's already dragging his devastatingly large sweater off his back and dropping it ceremoniously on the smaller boy's head. Kurt is immediately enveloped with warmth and Old Spice; he tries not the pass out from the beautifulness of it all. "Thank you."

Finn shrugs. "No problem. I was hot anyway. Hey, can I ask you a question?"

Kurt doesn't register that Finn's stopped walking until he's several paces ahead of the Frankenteen; he backtracks furiously and gives a jerky nod.

"Is there something going on between you and Blaine?"

"Who?"

"Blaine? Blaine Anderson?"

"Oh." Kurt stares at him. "What?"

Finn shuffles uncomfortably. "He's just always talking about you. Like, yesterday, he reminded me of how awesome you are at Chaser. And this morning, he tried to convince me that our height difference would be adorable. He just...He doesn't stop."

"Oh. Um. No. No, there's nothing going on with me and Anderson. I mean, just…" Kurt starts to say, but the sudden lack of interest in Finn's eyes as 'no' exits his mouth makes him switch his words around subconsciously. "…Yes."

Finn's eyes snap up. "Really?"

"Yes?"

"Dude, really?"

Kurt bites down hard on his lip and repeats weakly, "Yes?"

"I knew it!"

_Oh, no. You didn't. _"Could you not tell anyone?"

Finn's brown eyes are huge; Kurt wants to grab him and kiss him all over. "Of course not, man. God, that's really…That's really awesome. He's really lonely, you know? He told me this one time that he was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to be happy; I guess he found it."

And with a big smile, Finn drags Kurt into the biggest, warmest, nicest hug he's ever experienced.

It makes his knees weak.

It breaks his heart when he has to pull himself away and say quickly, "I have to go talk to An—Blaine. Excuse me."

He sprints to the castle still wearing Finn's sweater.

* * *

><p>"Anderson!"<p>

"Shh!"

"I'm looking for someone, you old bat!"

Blaine scoffs under his breath and peers around the magical creatures shelf; a very puffy eyes, red nosed, huge-maroon-sweater wearing Hummel catches the edge of his face and exclaims, "There's the prick now!" and pushes his way past the very scandalized looking librarian.

"Jesus, Hummel, why don't you just shove her down the stairs?"

There's no retort; Hummel is just staring at him. Blaine moves his fingers to the edges of his glasses self consciously and pushes them back up his nose, saying, "It's Saturday, okay? I didn't feel like wearing my contacts."

Hummel's eyes flick upward. "You're wearing a ski cap too."

"It's a beanie, and yes, I am. Was critiquing my weekend wardrobe really worth royal pissing the ancient librarian?"

Hummel seems to sort himself and manages a firm, "No."

Blaine flips a page in his textbook and flourishes at the air with his hand, motioning for the Slytherin to declare his purpose.

"I might have told Finn...I might have told him...that we're together."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I told Finn that we're together."

"You said _what?"_

"Goddammit, Anderson, I'm not saying it ag—"

"I heard you, you insolent dick."

"_Shh!"_

Hummel looks down at the sleeve of his sweater and picks at a random piece of lint there. "He was happy for us."

Blaine slams his book closed. "I thought the whole point of me blabbering about your awesomeness was so that Finn developed a crush on you? I thought that's what you _wanted!"_

"I do want that!" Hummel says weakly, holding out his hands helplessly. Blaine fumes and cradles his head.

"So you did the one thing that would insure that he says as far away from you as possible?"

Hummel slips into the chair beside him. "No, I have a plan."

"Great."

"I'm convinced that Finn returns my feelings."

"I know."

"So this will just make him _have _to face those feelings head on."

Blaine sighs. "Finn isn't the jealous type."

"It doesn't matter."

"Hummel…"

But the Slytherin is grabbing one of his hands and is holding it tight. When Blaine meets his eyes, they're so bright and intense that he can't look away. "Please. Just for a few weeks."

Blaine pulls his hand away to push his glasses back up his nose. Kurt's marine eyes burn his skin; he gives a loud sigh before mumbling, "I liked it better when we hexed each other every day."

"Is that a yes?"

"Fine!"

There's a screech as Kurt throws back his chair, and suddenly a thin pair of arms are wrapped tightly around Blaine's broad shoulders. He can't help but breathe in an intoxicating mixture of vanilla and coconut. Gingerly, Blaine pushes the Slytherin away from him.

"This doesn't make us friends."

Kurt is positively beaming. "Of course not."

"And you will not try to hold my hand in public unless Finn is around."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"And I better not be hexed for the next _century_."

Kurt's smile wobbles into a sneer. "Not unless provoked, Anderson."

"You're such an ass."

* * *

><p><strong><em>So. :)<em>**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**

**_Preview:_**

_Kurt barely made it to the Slytherin table before a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. They're warm and steady, and Kurt would be lying if he said he didn't lean into them. Warm breath tickles his ear, and then, "Aw, I bet we look fucking adorable right now."_


	3. Chapter 3

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>Kurt barely made it to the Slytherin table before a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. They're warm and steady, and Kurt would be lying if he said he didn't lean into them. Warm breath tickles his ear, and then, "Aw, I bet we look fucking adorable right now."<p>

Kurt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from sending his elbow back into Anderson's ribs. He sneaks a peek toward the Gryffindor table; Finn's chocolate eyes are locked on them, a piece of sausage dangling off the edge of his fork.

So Kurt spins around in Anderson's arms and plants an overly-enthusiastic, slobbery kiss on the Gryffindor's cheek that makes the poor boy lean away with a wrinkled nose.

The Slytherins around them share the same sentiment; there are a few groans and scoffs and one loud, "Get a room!", but Kurt's quickly shot death glare quiets them all quickly.

"Don't worry, he's too busy munching on that delicious bacon to care about us right now." Anderson whispers. At their proximity, Kurt can feel every word brush over his skin. He can pick out the flecks of gold in the boy's hazel eyes. But mostly, he can see the badly masked irritation.

"Decided not to go for the nerdy hipster look today, Anderson?" He breathes sharply. Anderson's eyes dart downward, taking in Kurt's outfit in a matter of seconds.

"Wow, pants? Finally found that thing between your legs that most people would call a penis?"

"You're such a cun—Cutie! So cute with your…triangle eyebrows."

"Uh –"

"Hey, guys."

Anderson releases his hold on Kurt to face the Frankenteen; the Gryffindor is beaming widely at them with his lopsided grin. "You don't have to whisper, Finn."

"Oh. Well, I came over to tell you congrats, and we're all really glad that you've decided to have sex instead of trying to murder each other."

To Kurt's immediate surprise, Anderson's cheeks flush bright red. "Finn! We – We're not at that point in our –"

"Oh, don't tell me you're a virgin, Anderson." It flies out of his mouth before he can stop it; Finn looks at him confusedly while the blush on Anderson's cheeks travels all the way up to the tips of his ears.

"Yes, muffin, I've been saving myself for you! Because you're the perfect man for me."

This takes Kurt aback even more. Despite his obvious disposition with the boy's glorified perfection and his arrogant manner, Kurt could proudly admit that his fake boyfriend was extremely appealing. His toned chest and broad shoulders were any mentally stable woman's – or man's – wet dream.

So how did he still have his cherry?

When Kurt tunes back in, he catches only the end of their conversation.

"…his pleasantness every day and his tight ass and his eyes. That's why I love him."

"Those are all physical things except the pleasantness, and I have a feeling you were being sarcastic."

"How very perceptive of you, Finn."

Kurt clears his throat. "Cupcake, can we go?"

"Go where, Muffin?" Anderson purrs back, seizing his hand and pressing his lips to Kurt's knuckles.

"I'd like to get my mack on."

Both Anderson and Finn regard him with scandalized expressions.

"Uh…We have Potions next period, Muffin. Macking would not be a good use of our—"

But Kurt has him by the collar, dragging him toward the double doors with so much force that Anderson's shoes actually slide across the smooth floor a few times.

It was only when Kurt had shoved the Gryffindor into an empty classroom and had securely bolted the door that he rounded on him.

"What the hell was _that?" _

Anderson inspects his fingernails with a bored expression. "Impeccable acting?"

"_Muffin_?"

"I figured you wouldn't appreciate Baby Cakes or Sweet Bottom."

"I don't appreciate _Muffin_ either!"

"At least I complimented your ass!" Anderson says, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. Kurt folds his arms over his chest. "Finn kept checking it out after I said that!"

"Really?" He hates the desperation in his voice. Anderson rolls his eyes again.

"Yes, Muffin. Can I go to Potions now please?"

Kurt starts to nod, to wave a hand indifferently and send Anderson on his way, but something clicks in Kurt's mind and stops him mid-nod.

"The whole Slytherin table heard me say that thing about macking."

"Yeah, and I'm sure Finn's told everyone in Gryffindor _and _Hufflepuff by now. So what?"

"So…I have to make people believe me, Anderson." He moves a step forward, and Anderson takes a step back.

"Wh—"

But Kurt's pounced on him, his lips latched tightly to the skin just above Anderson's collar.

It takes him a full thirty seconds to get a good enough grip on the boy's lithe frame to push him away. "What are you _doing?_"

He only advances again, this time only to run his fingertips over Anderson's raw skin. "Perfect."

"What's perfect? What did you do?" Anderson tugs at his collar; the panicked expression on his handsome face is almost cute.

Almost.

Kurt gives a little wave and backs toward the door. "Have fun in Potions, Cupcake."

* * *

><p>"<em>Damn!<em>" Finn exclaims loudly as he falls onto his potions stool. From across the room, Santana crackles and wolf-whistles in his direction. The other Gryffindors around them look scandalized.

"What is it?"

"I thought he was joking."

"Finn, what are you staring at? Are you staring at my neck?"

"Damn. He must have a really talented mouth, you weren't even gone for that—"

Blaine claps a hand over his neck and freezes.

_Oh, no. He didn't._

"Dude, it's a little further down, if you're even trying to cover it. That hickey's a little big to be hiding it with your hand."

_He had._

"Oh, god."

Finn gives him a little pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. A cold spoon will make that thing fade pretty fast."

"I can't believe him. I'm going to _kill him, _I swear—"

"Dude, chill out." Finn pulls out his hand; Blaine leans away, wary. "Look, I know this spell that'll cover it for this period. Once we get out of here, you can go down to the kitchens and have one of the house elves give you a spoon. Okay?"

After a moment of considering the consequences of having Finn wave a wand anywhere near his face, Blaine nods and drops his hands into his lap in defeat.

"This might take a little while, it's pretty huge."

"Great. Just...Thanks."

Finn chuckles softly and his wand waves counterclockwise over Blaine's skin. "So…if you don't mind me asking, how'd that happen? I mean, you and Kurt used to spend every day trying to embarrass the shit out of each other and now you make out in empty classrooms?"

"I guess he has his charms." Blaine replies after a moment, his mind giving him a flashbulb glance of Hummel's wide glasz eyes. Finn arches an eyebrow. "After you get over what an arrogant prick he is, obviously."

"So…somehow you ended up talking? Dude, you haven't talked to him since first year."

As Finn's wand passes over his neck for the second time, Blaine realizes that the dopey Gryffindor was right. He moves his loafers awkwardly from the lowest prong on his stool to the highest and props his elbow on his knee, chin resting heavily in his hand.

"I actually ended up stunning him." He answers honestly as Finn taps his skin three times with the tip of his wand. "We talked for awhile. He's really witty."

Finn's progress pauses. "You're dating Kurt because he's witty?"

"Uh. Yes." Blaine grasps hurriedly at straws. "And he understands my humor, which is always a plus."

Finn's eyes narrow a little, but after a very nerve-racking second, he nods and waves his wand one last time. "Right. Well, it's covered for now, but I'm not sure how long that'll last. I've only done it on myself before, and you're tanner than I am."

Blaine runs his fingers over his skin; it feels softer than usual. He gives Finn an appreciative grin and picks up his quill.

They don't talk much after that, but near the end of class, Finn leans over and says quietly, "I'm really happy for you, dude. You deserve to be happy, you know?"

Blaine just looks down at his hands.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Hummel!"<p>

It rings out over the Great Hall, breaking the quietness around him; Kurt's fingers twitch over his wand, but when he glances over his shoulder, he relaxes.

"Sam Evans. What can I help you with?"

The blonde flashes a crooked grin and straddles the long bench beside him. "Like always, I was wondering if I scan over your notes from Herbology today. I was…preoccupied."

"With transfiguring Jenny Carter's notes into evil gnomes?"

"You know me too well."

Kurt smiles. "True. Let me just find…"

As he digs around in the bottom of his Prada tote, Sam clears his throat. "So, you and Anderson?"

Kurt arches an eyebrow at the floor. "Presumably."

"I saw that, uh, love mark on his neck." Sam's fingers tap at his jugular for reference; Kurt flushes bright red and hands over the notes without comment. "You know, for some reason, I thought you guys hated each other."

There's a knowing glint in his green eyes that makes Kurt swallow thickly and say, "We have a complicated relationship."

"But it _is _a relationship, right?"

Kurt's head snaps up; Sam's eyes are searching his face. He manages a tight, "Yes, Sam. There are a lot of amazing qualities about that bushy haired Gryffindor. I just had to open my eyes to see them clearly," and pretends not to notice the obvious disappointment and disbelief that floods into Sam's face.

"_Hummel!"_

Sam's head jerks to the mixture of anger and resent; Kurt drops his eyes to the parchment in front of him and wills them to stay there. A few seconds later, there's a squeal and a thump as Anderson throws himself onto the bench on Kurt's other side.

"Hey, Sam."

"H—"

"Bye, Sam."

There's an awkward moment of silence as Sam tries to figure out if the Gryffindor is being serious or not; when he comes to a conclusion, he stands hurriedly and mutters a quick thanks to Kurt. When his footsteps fade, Kurt tilts his head pointedly and starts to tuck his notes back into his bag.

"Kurt." His voice is low and dangerous; a thrill runs through Kurt's body when he realizes that Anderson had called him by his first name. He brings himself to meet a pair of livid hazel eyes with his best _can-I-help-you_ glare. "I can't _believe _you."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Anderson. It's not like you haven't had a hickey before."

"That's not the point."

"I suppose it's the fact that I gave it to you, then?"

Anderson's expression morphs from anger to guilt to resent and back to anger in one moment. He's suddenly at a loss for words; his full lips are parted. Kurt's eyes flick down to them for a millisecond. The Gryffindor notices and presses them together, the wheels behind his eyes obviously searching for proof to disprove Kurt's original declaration of truth.

Finally, though, he just sighs and drops his chin into his hand.

"You could have told me."

"You wouldn't have let me do it, Anderson."

Anderson opens his mouth to argue, but seems to realize that he was right and swallows words of protest. There's a moment of silence while Kurt scribbles a few lines onto in parchment.

"I don't care that it was you that gave it to me." Kurt's eyebrows jump up his forehead; he meets Anderson's eyes and finds sincerity. "I wasn't ashamed or anything. I was just…surprised. And could you stop calling me Anderson?"

"Well, that's—"

"Hey, guys!" The voice comes over Kurt's left shoulder, but he doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. His eyes widen; Ander - _Blaine_ fakes a bright smile and reaches over to take one of Kurt's fisted hands.

"Hey, Finn."

Kurt stares down at their entwined fingers, reveling in the contrast of skin colors and the texture of Blaine's less than smooth skin as Finn shuffles around them and sits down across from him.

"I see you guys worked it out."

Blaine's thumb smoothes over the top of Kurt's hand; the Slytherin represses a shiver and hopes to Chewbacca that he doesn't erupt in goosebumps.

"It was just a surprise. Muffin didn't give me any warning." A carefully aimed kick hits Kurt's shin.

He tears his eyes away from their hands and grins sadistically. "I like it better when you're surprised, cupcake."

Finn's warm brown eyes seem to lighten as the smirk on his lips nearly reaches his ears; suddenly, Kurt could care less about Blaine's shiver-inducing strokes. He feels the Gryffindor sit back on the bench, knowing that his work there was done. Finn's attention was focused solely on Kurt now.

As Kurt exchanges a few words of less than witty banter with Finn, Blaine stands and pulls his hand away from Kurt's, murmuring quietly, "I'm so tired. Goodnight, guys."

As he turns away, though, Finn asks confusedly, "Wait, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Am I?"

Finn grins and gestures awkwardly toward Kurt with one hand. They look at each other, both brows furrowed, and then it hits them both at the same time.

"My goodnight kiss, cupcake. You forgot that."

There's a moment while Blaine just looks at him, eyes saying very clearly, "Do I really have to do this?" and Kurt's expression fighting back furiously with "You'd better."

So he leans down and presses a kiss to Kurt's forehead.

But Finn would have no sense of innocence remain between them.

"Oh, guys, don't be shy because of me. Look, I'll hide my eyes. Go ahead."

Blaine sighs.

Kurt wonders if he would just walk away, because honestly, he hadn't signed up for _this _at all.

Instead of walking away, though, he takes Kurt's face in both his hands and kisses him.

It's not gentle.

It's hard and biting and Kurt gasps when his teeth scrape his bottom lip. The Slytherin's hand comes up, almost involuntarily, to seize the gold and burgundy tie, pulling him ever more close, and subconsciously tries to memorize the taste of his mouth.

As he moves away, he bites down on Kurt's puffy bottom lip and pulls it out ever so slightly.

They look at each other for a second, hazel meeting marine, breath ghosting over each others mouths, and then Finn breaks the silence.

"Can I look now?"

Blaine's eyes are gone; so is the warmth of his body close to Kurt's.

"Yes, Finn." He answers exasperatedly, reaching up to fix his tie, which, Kurt realizes with a jolt, _he_ had accidently pulled loose. "And don't think I didn't see you peeking, man."

Finn blushes red.

Kurt's heart drops into his stomach.

So _that's _why it had been so intense, so gasp worthy, so butterfly inducing.

He clears his throat and turns to Finn. "Why the peeking, Finn Hudson?"

He can't keep the flirty tone of out his voice; Blaine rolls his eyes and hikes his bag further up his shoulder. He offers them a goodbye wave that Finn returns and Kurt pointedly ignores.

When his broad back finally disappears into the corridor and around the corner, Kurt can finally breathe again.

But as he returns his attention to the beautiful Gryffindor in front of him, he realizes that his hands are shaking, and his arms are still peppered with goosebumps.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So. :)<em>**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	4. Chapter 4

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>Blaine breathes in the strong, clean smell of laundry detergent and softener. He glances around as clothes fly over his head, sprinkling water onto his curly hair, and drop themselves into the dryer. Holding his basket carefully under one arm, he wonders how more students didn't do their own laundry. He could never get enough of the magic in the room, let alone the intoxicating mixture of vanilla and wild orchid.<p>

The house elves running around near his legs all greet him with their normal smiles and welcomes, ushering him happily to his normal washer. Once he starts loading his clothes into it, they all dissipate, running back to the load each was currently working on.

He's just finished emptying a cap full of soap when he hears a squeak of surprise and, when he looks in the direction of the sound, a brown head ducks behind a particularly tall double-dryer.

"Kurt?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake."

"Why are you _hiding_?"

"Because I'm sick of seeing your ugly mug."

"Really."

"Yes."

Blaine leans against a washer and yawns loudly behind his hand. "And this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it's obviously laundry day?"

There's a sigh, and then, "Just shut up, Anderson."

"Muffin, you know I don't care what you wear." His voice drips with sarcasm. Kurt peers out long enough to flip him the illusive middle finger. "Seriously, Kurt, do you really think I'm going to tell people about your laundry day outfit when I have something so much bigger on you?"

There's a moment of silence, and then Kurt mutters, "Fuck it" and takes a few steps toward him and then lifts himself effortlessly onto a nearby washer.

After a second of raking his eyes down the lithe form, Blaine decides that Kurt really has nothing to be embarrassed about.

He's wearing a tee-shirt that had the collar snipped cleanly from it; one sleeve slips carelessly down his shoulder and exposes flawlessly pale skin and deep collar bones. Blaine has to physically repress the urge to touch the unblemished porcelain. On his legs…

"…Are those _cheerleading _pants?"

Kurt sniffs. "Yes, and if you tell anyone, I'll—"

"I won't. It's just interesting."

"Yes, well…Not everyone has a random pair of Quidditch gym shorts to wear on laundry day."

Blaine smoothes his palm over his thigh, feeling the mesh material beneath his fingers. "I would wear them every day, if they weren't such a crime against fashion."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say that the rest of your clothes aren't?"

"Good one." Blaine rolls his eyes. After a moment of silence, he asks, "So can you do anything impressive with your secret cheerleading skills?"

Kurt gives him a pointed look and gestures down at his body. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed."

"I said _impressive_."

"Oh, ouch."

"Seriously, can you?"

Kurt seems to weigh the pros and cons of exposing his abilities and comes to a quick conclusion. He slinks off the washer, lithe body sliding from the appliance with a type of sexual grace that isn't lost to Blaine's hazel eyes at all. He takes a deep breath, chest puffing out as it filled with air, and executes a flawless high kick that Blaine leans away from in surprise.

"Impressive enough?"

Blaine shrugs one shoulder. "I wouldn't be able to do it."

He smoothes down his tee shirt, the cut collar slipping impossibly further down his porcelain shoulder, and a smug smile traces over his mouth. Blaine casts his eyes downward, knowing that if he let them stray, they'd land on the tiny sliver of milky skin that was Kurt's hip, exposed when Kurt had performed his cheerleading trick.

"So why are you down here, anyway?" Kurt asks after a beat, pulling himself back onto a washer. "I know you have enough money to have someone else clean your clothes for you, and plus, it's free and Hogwarts."

Blaine lifts an eyebrow. "How do you know I have enough money?"

"We were friends in Kindergarten, remember?"

"Well, you have a shitty memory." Kurt raises an eyebrow in curiously. "_I'm _not rich. My parents are rich. There's a significant difference."

Kurt chews on his bottom lip, but says nothing. Blaine looks down at his hands.

"As for why I come here when it's free…I like it here. It's quiet, smells good. The house elves are nice and it's less work for them. I don't think they mind much. I also get alone time, which is always –"

"Sorry."

Blaine meets Kurt's eyes. "For what?"

"Destroying your alone time."

"I don't mind."

Kurt's mouth curves upward ever so slightly; Blaine chews on the inside of his cheek and hums a soft tune that had been stuck in his head for a few days.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Kurt straightens his spine and asks, "Do you happen to have the notes from charms yesterday?"

"I always take notes."

"I need a favor."

* * *

><p>"Stop."<p>

"What?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"The tapping."

"Tapping?"

"You're tapping your quill against the table."

"Oh."

"It's driving me crazy."

"Like this?"

"Yes."

"I'm doing it right?"

"Blaine."

"I just want to make sure I –"

"_Stop._"

"Fine, but only because you're my muffin and I love every irrational pet peeve you have."

"Shove off."

"If I'm not mistaken, _you_'re the one using _my _charms notes to write that essay."

Kurt rolls his eyes and uncrosses his legs, stretching them out tiredly. He swears they've been sitting there for at least two hours In silence, with the occasional question being voiced between them. After relocating to the library, Blaine had taken to tapping his end of his quill against the smooth surface of the oak table and successfully driving him insane.

Next to him, Blaine throws his quill down and lets his parchment roll into a type scroll on its own accord. He lifts his arms over his head and makes a show of yawning loudly behind his hand, forcing Kurt to shoot him a look that was equal parts disgust and annoyance.

"You're done?" The Slytherin demands in disbelief, watching irately as Blaine slipped his essay into his bag.

"For now."

Kurt snorts. "You do realize that you have to _try _in order to get a passing mark, right?"

Blaine leans over his shoulder, lips ghosting the boy's ear, and murmurs quietly, "You should have more faith in my intelligence, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt sends his elbow backward and it connects hard with Blaine's ribcage; the Gryffindor lets out a little groan of surprise and hurt.

"Maybe, Mr. Anderson, if you weren't such a cocky asshole, I wouldn't question your intelligence."

"Ouch." He sits back down. "What's your favorite color?"

Kurt arches an eyebrow at the arbitrary question. "Why?"

"Carter asked me what it was the other day, and I honestly didn't have an answer."

"Dior gray."

Blaine makes a face. "That's not a color."

"Well, what did you tell Carter?"

"I guessed blue." His eyes search Kurt's face. "I'm not sure why."

Kurt stares at him, at his wide Bambi eyes and strong jaw, and then looks back down at his paper. "Interesting."

"Don't you want to know what my favorite color is?"

Kurt lets out a long sigh. "I'm trying to write a paper."

"So? Take a break. We need to know about each other in case someone asks. We _are _supposed to be dating, you know."

"Fine. What's your favorite –"

"Easy. Purple. Favorite song?"

There's a pause as the wheels in Kurt's brain start to turn, churning through the various songs he had on repeat in his head. "_Defying Gravity_."

"Really?" He makes another face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I just imagined you saying Barbra Streisand or Patti LuPone. "

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I _do _like Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone. But if someone threatened me with an Unforgivable, I would say _Defying Gravity_."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Oh, um…Anything by Katy Perry."

"Of course."

"What does your mom look like?"

Kurt swallows. There's a second of silence while he struggles with the emotions bubbling in his throat and Blaine's eyes travel over his face, noticing the Slytherin's immediate discomfort.

"Like me." He finally manages with a thick tongue. Blaine nods silently, somehow knowing he wasn't quite finished. "I don't look a thing like my dad, so…I got all of her traits. She looked like me."

Blaine's brow pulls inward. "Looked?"

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry." He looks it; his fingers twitch over the surface of the table, like they want to grasp Kurt's and hold on tight. Kurt suddenly hates the pity in his hazel eyes.

"I don't need your sympathy."

The Gryffindor blinks. "No, I guess you don't."

"So, what about you?" Kurt's desperate to talk about anything else. "Do you look like your mother?"

"I wish," Blaine scoffs, running a hand over his face. "No, I look just like my dad."

Kurt notices the bitter tone in his voice and ventures bravely, "Not a good relationship?"

"Not exactly." It's all but a growl; Kurt lifts an eyebrow interestedly. "He hasn't quite come to terms with the fact that I like to kiss boys yet."

"Really?"

"Really. He's convinced it's _just a phase_."

"I'm sorry."

Blaine's eyes flick to his face and his lips quirk upward. "I don't need your sympathy."

"Oh, clever."

"Ha! You said I was clever!"

"Shut up."

Blaine laughs, but Kurt can tell it's not a full, honest laugh. There's still a darkness in his eyes that had pooled there when his father had been brought up; Kurt finds himself wondering what Blaine's real laugh sounded like, and if it reached the hazel irises.

After a beat, Blaine clears his throat. "What's _your_ home situation, then?"

"My dad is entirely supportive of me," Kurt says confidently, smiling at the thought of his overprotective and entirely too loving father. Blaine lets out a low whistle.

"Lucky little Slytherin."

"Can I finish this essay now?"

Blaine claps him once on the arm, hard, and stands, hiking his bag onto his shoulder. "Have fun, muffin."

Kurt would be lying if he denied that he watched Blaine's jean-clad ass disappear around the corner.

* * *

><p>Blaine's trekking around the grounds with his broom held tightly under his arm when Santana catches up with him. He's honestly surprised to see her; it was rare that Santana actually talked to him when they weren't on or near the pitch.<p>

"Hey, Anderson, I heard you were boning my boy Kurt."

"Well, we're _dating_, if that's what you –"

She grabs him by the tie and drags him uncomfortably close. Blaine jerks away in surprise, but doesn't actually move a centimeter. "Listen, hobbit, Kurt is _fragile_. He needs to be treated _right_. You are probably the _last _person I would want near my boy, but apparently he's found something appealing under those enormous Dorito eyebrows of yours. So if you hurt even the _tiniest _hair on his far too impeccable head – or anywhere else – I _will _come after you with a bludger bat. I'm not below going all muggle on your ass. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, ma'am," He says immediately. Santana takes a step back; when she lets go of his shirt, Blaine's heels sink back into the ground. It takes him a few seconds to realize he must have been on his tip-toes.

"Good." She sniffs. "Personally, I find you absolutely revolting, but at least you're better than the last one."

Blaine's ears prick. "Last one?"

Santana shoots him a dirty look and, with a flick of her cloak, turns on her heel to head back toward the castle. "See you on the pitch, Anderson. Prepare to have your ass handed to you."

* * *

><p><strong><em>So. :)<em>**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	5. Chapter 5

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>"So…it's this green thing, right?"<p>

Kurt rests his face in his palm and sighs. As much as he loved quality time with Finn and his dimples, being the only thing standing between the Frankenteen and a fat "Fail" was probably more tiring than dealing with Blaine.

"Yes, Finn. The green thing."

The Gryffindor smiles brilliantly and uses a pair of shears to snip a leaf from a currently unidentified plant that the Herbology professor had shoved at them. Kurt stifles another sigh as he accidently clips his own finger and lets out a long stream of swears that makes the professor deduct ten points from both houses.

"It wasn't even that close to my finger! I swear, someone must have jinxed my –"

"Oh, just give it to me, Finn. Jesus." Kurt reaches over and swipes it hurriedly from Finn's bleeding fingers; across the room, he notices Blaine hide a smile behind his huge potted plant. When he looks back at Finn, the tall boy is grimacing down at his skin with an absolutely miserable expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Kurt." He says, sighing. His chocolate eyes flick up to search the Slytherin's face for anger and only finds exasperation. "Seriously."

"It's fine." He means it. After a moment, he pushes the shears into Finn's good hand and says roughly, "I think I know who decided that would be funny."

Finn follows his eyes across the greenhouse just as Blaine looks up to find them both staring at him. He waves. "He'd do that?"

"He'd do anything to piss me off." Kurt grumbles quietly, forgetting himself for a second.

"Are you guys having problems?" Finn's voice is full of concern and suddenly, Kurt finds him intensely annoying.

"No! Could you please focus on the task at hand and mind your own business?"

"Muffin!" A warm, rough hand slips into his. Kurt finds himself grasping it like it's his last lifeline. Finn's eyebrows are still arched from the Slytherin's previous biting words, but Kurt can't really bring himself to care. Beside him, Blaine moves closer and says, "Can I speak to you for a second?"

He doesn't wait for an answer; he just drags Kurt out from the muggy greenhouse atmosphere and pushes him carefully onto a bench beside an old oak tree.

And he lets go of Kurt's hand.

"What's your problem?"

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're being a bitch to Finn." Blaine crosses his arms over his chest and uses his hazel eyes to dare Kurt to deny it.

"And you're an eavesdropper, we all have our issues."

"Kurt," his voice is low and dangerous, "if you don't like Finn, then why am I still pretending to be your boyfriend?"

Kurt stares. There's something in his eyes that wasn't there before; a question that needed to be answered. His heart jumps into his throat and his intestines squeeze together and suddenly he can't breathe.

"I do like Finn."

The question is gone, replaced by a bored indifference that seems to take over his entire face as he backs up and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Then stop being such a douche. You're not making it any easier for him to face his feelings, you know." Blaine smoothes a hand over his face and looks over his shoulder at the greenhouse. Finn has his nose pressed against the cloudy glass and he's waving what appeared to be a perfectly cut leaf. "Look, he's redeemed himself."

Kurt sighs and pulls himself to his feet, shaking Blaine's fingers away from his arm as the Gryffindor tries to give him a soothing pat.

He has his hand on the smooth doorknob when a question crawls up his throat and pushes at the edges of his lips. He turns and asks, "Why did you cut Finn?"

Blaine's not even paying attention; he's standing with his back to Kurt, hands stuck on his hips. When he hears Kurt's soft voice, his hazel eyes flick up, over his shoulder. There's a moment when they just look at each other, drink each other in, and Kurt swears he doesn't breathe until Blaine shrugs and, with a tiny smile, says, "You looked like you needed a distraction from that incredibly fast-paced head of yours."

Kurt gives a jerky nod and turns away from him.

Finn's grinning at him from the other side of the glass, clasping the leaf gingerly in both of his huge hands.

And suddenly, the huge chocolate eyes look dull and empty.

Suddenly, his height isn't attractive and his broad shoulders could be a few inches smaller.

Suddenly, Kurt much preferred the subtle smell of Blaine's Ralph Lauren over the overpowering stench of Finn's Axe.

Suddenly, Kurt would much rather be instigating a long bout of witty banter with Blaine than being complimented plenty by Finn.

Suddenly, Kurt is in _deep shit_.

* * *

><p>Three hundred and five…three hundred and six…three hundred and -<p>

"Blaine."

"Sammy Evans!" He lets his back hit the floor, the muscles in his stomach screaming at him to _please, please stop _and arches his neck as the blonde peers down at him. "What's up?"

"Crunches?"

"You know. Quidditch." Sam drops his bag onto the floor and lowers himself down beside the sweaty Gryffindor. Blaine pulls himself into a sitting position. "Is everything okay?"

"Not exactly." He runs a hand through his blonde hair and presses his lips into a line. Blaine raises his eyebrows in interest. "I heard that Kurt's blackmailing you into being his pretend boyfriend in order to gain better access to Finn."

Blaine's heart, beating ever so quickly from the sit-ups and push-ups and lunges, halts completely. "That's—That's cray—Who said that? I mean where – Where did you hear that?"

"A few Hufflepuffs were talking in the back of divination."

"It isn't true." He can finally manage, running a hasty hand through his un-gelled curls. Sam lifts an eyebrow. "It isn't!"

"Really, Blaine? Because the last memory I have of you and Kurt together is when he jinxed your teeth to resemble a beaver's."

Blaine presses his lips together. "He started talking to me a few weeks ago and we –"

"Really? What's his favorite food?"

"…Lettuce?"

"Monte Cristo Panini."

"That's what I meant."

"You don't have to lie for him, Blaine," Sam says, resting back on one palm. "Whatever he has on you, you don't have to –"

"I like his eyes!" It's blurted and a grasp at straws, but it shuts Sam's puffy lips, and suddenly Blaine can't stop talking. "And he's stubborn. So stubborn. It's actually kind of cute. I like messing with him because he gets these huge eyes. And he makes this scrunched up face whenever he doesn't get his way, which never fails to make me laugh. And he smells _so_ good. I don't even know what smell it is – which is honestly saying something because I'm a cologne connoisseur – but I love it. And I just…I don't know. I don't know."

Sam's looking at him with an unreadable expression now, one that makes him scrunch up his nose and ask, "_What_?"

"Nothing." He stands and brushes off his cloak. "I guess you just put that rumor to rest. Tell Kurt I say hi."

"Um…" His heart starts to beat again.

"And please stop doing crunches. You're going to wear yourself out before you even get on the pitch. Go to bed."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>So he does.<p>

He's curled in his warm bed when a tap on his head jerks him from R.E.M.

"_Whazzat_?"

"Blaine?"

"Jeremey?"

"There's someone downstairs for you."

"What?"

"Kurt Hummel? He's waiting in the Common Room."

"Tell me that you're kidding."

"I wish, dude. He basically jumped me when I got to the portrait."

"_Ugh._"

"He's waiting for you by the fire."

"She let him in?"

"She let _me _in. He kind of just shuffled in behind me."

"Good lord."

* * *

><p>Kurt's cuddling into the warm couch when he hears bare feet padding down the stairs.<p>

"Took you long enough," He drawls, not bothering to turn. There's a heavy sigh and the padding becomes thicker as Blaine's toes sink into the carpet.

"What do you want, Kurt? I have an exam in the morning. I'm tired. It's late."

"We need to discuss this whole thing." The padding stops just behind him. "Will you please sit somewhere where I can see you? You're making me nervous."

_God, _wasn't _that_ a mistake.

Because the second Blaine moves around the couch and into Kurt's view, his throat seems to close up.

Because his hair was loose and messy and was _begging_ to have someone run their fingers through it.

Because Blaine had shoved his glasses onto his nose and, in the firelight, his doe eyes seemed to glow.

Because the Gryffindor hadn't bothered to pull a shirt over his broad chest and his flat stomach looked positively delectable.

Because a pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, clinging to his sculpted backside (not that Kurt was looking).

Because the bruise on his neck seems to shine on his tan skin. Kurt blushes.

Because _god, _he had put that there.

Blaine, oblivious, collapses into one of the leather armchairs. "What is it?"

Kurt doesn't realize he's staring until his has to look away. He inspects his fingernails. "I don't feel as though Finn is reacting to this whole thing…correctly."

"What do you want to do about it?" Blaine shuffles in his chair; Kurt can't help but look at him again.

"I don't think we're being quite public enough about this."

Blaine quirks an eyebrow. "Kurt, you _sucked _my neck and broke capillaries which, in turn, left a huge bruise. How is that _not_ public?"

"Yeah, yeah." His skin had tasted like mint and coconut and something so undeniably _Blaine_. Kurt mental shakes himself. "I meant more public in the way of words."

Blaine's hazel eyes leave his face and rest on the fire. "You want me to tell you that I love you?"

"In public."

"Right."

There's a silence; Blaine's eyes are still locked on the flames. Kurt clears his throat. "That Christmas Ball is coming up soon."

"I go home from the holidays."

"Oh." He should have remembered; he always used to have a week or two of peace before Blaine came back from break.

There's another long stretch of silence before Blaine coughs lightly and offers, "I could leave a little late. You know, so that I could go to the ball and then go home."

Gratitude and something like elation wells upside of Kurt; he smiles so widely that it probably reached his ears. Blaine returns it and shakes his head exasperatedly.

"Thank you."

"Whatever, Hummel." After a beat, he sighs. "Kurt, can I ask you something?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Sure."

"Santana said something to me the other day."

"Interesting. Is this going somewhere?"

"She said she was glad that I wasn't like 'the other one'." He uses his fingers to make quotation marks; Kurt's face drains a little of color.

"I have no idea what she's talking about." He stands and heads toward the portrait.

"Kurt –"

"You know, I should go. It's late. You have exam tomorrow. Beauty sleep, you know –"

"Kurt!"

A strong hand wraps around his wrist and he's being jerked backward. They end up close. Way closer than Blaine or Kurt had anticipated, and Kurt can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, count the eyelashes on both his upper and lower eyelids, and trace the outline of his full lips with the tip on his finger. He can feel the hardness of Blaine's chest against his and his breath ghosts over Kurt's skin.

"Tell me about the other one," He breathes softly, the fingers on Kurt's wrist sliding up his arm, smoothing over his skin.

Kurt, after a moment of pure enjoyment, pulls away. "Maybe tomorrow."

He leaves Blaine standing in his sweatpants with a tiny, knowing smirk on his lips.

* * *

><p><strong><em>I'd just like to say that I adore all of your reviews. Especially the ones about my writing style; I appreciate the compliments so much. I try very hard to be a good writer, so...You guys just make my day. Thank you!<em>**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	6. Chapter 6

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>"I have very, very bad news."<p>

Kurt rubs his forehead and looks up at Blaine's nervous figure with narrowed eyes. "What is it?"

"My _mother_ found out about you."

"Found…?"

Blaine throws himself into a chair so violently that Kurt leans back in surprise. "About my 'boyfriend'."

The quotation marks he uses make Kurt's heart ache in his chest. He tears his eyes away from Blaine's classically handsome face and scribbles a few notes in the margin of his text book. "So?"

"So she wants to meet you."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said your parents –"

"I said _my dad_."

"Oh."

Blaine reaches out and grasps one of his hands suddenly; Kurt stares down at their entwined fingers before flicking back up to meet those hazel eyes. "Kurt, I have a very, very big favor to ask of you."

"Well, it's not like I can say no. I owe you everything."

"This will make us even."

"What is it?"

Blaine rolls his lips together and, if Kurt could see inside his mouth, was probably biting the inside of his cheek. "I want you to come home with me during Holiday Break."

"No."

"You just said you couldn't say no!"

"That's completely out of the question." Kurt pulls his hand away from Blaine's – he was really beginning to like the feel of the Gryffindor's skin on his _too much_ – and starts scribbling again.

"Please, Kurt." His velvet voice is lower now, persuasive and begging. Kurt can't help himself; his eyes flick to Blaine's full lips. "My dad will be away and somehow my mother found out that you stay at Hogwarts all Christmas. Just…please. For me."

"For you?_ Please._" Kurt snips, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. Blaine gives him a little shove that makes him swat at the Gryffindor. After a moment, though, he forces himself back into seriousness. "I'll think about it, okay? We have to get through this Christmas Ball thing first."

Blaine leans across the table and kisses him soundly on the forehead with a large "MWUAH!" that makes Kurt push him away in disgust, cheeks flaming pink. The students around them shook their heads and shared knowing smiles.

"Thank you, muffin!"

"Go away now."

As he walks away, though, Kurt rests his chin in his hand and watches the subtle sway in his hips, the way his jeans clung perfectly to his backside, the way a few first years twittered happily as he shot them a friendly smile.

He honestly tries not to resent Blaine, to despise him for somehow converting Kurt into another one of his obnoxious - although secret - member of his all-too popular fan club. He swears he's no better than that one Ravenclaw that stops Blaine on his way out the door and asks if he could _please, help me with Transfiguration because you're soooooo good at it_.

So Kurt promptly kicks himself internally and focuses all his thoughts on _Finn, Finn, Finn_.

* * *

><p>Blaine figures Kurt will tell him about "the other one" once he feels comfortable in doing so.<p>

Except it was _killing _Blaine, not knowing. He finds himself fidgeting uncomfortably at the Gryffindor table, unconsciously smoothing a hand through his hair and trying uncontrollably to think of someone Kurt would have crushed on before the excellence of Finn's dopey smile had infected his thoughts.

Somehow, everyone he comes up with just doesn't measure up to Kurt's standards. They all ended up being too dumb, too petty, too short, too tall, too uninteresting, too excitable, too straight, too gay. Blaine lets out an exasperated breath and sips hurriedly at his coffee, wondering how exactly _he _measured up against Kurt's undeniable perfection.

He decides he doesn't want to know.

"Hey, what do you think Kurt sees in me?"

Or maybe he does.

Rachel looks up from her toast and music sheets and lets her eyes run over him. "Well, you have perfect teeth."

"You know, Rach, I don't think that's exactly a deal breaker."

"You'd be surprised how important oral hygiene is to prospective suitors." She says it with intensity, like she specifically went around with dentistry tools and poked them into people's mouths. She looks back down at her music. "Plus, Blaine, you're a catch."

He raises an eyebrow. "I am?"

"Of course. You're a wonderful tenor, not to mention your impeccable attractive wardrobe choices. You're smart, you're stable, and you're funny." She hasn't looked up this whole time, but Blaine can hear the sincerity in her voice and it makes the tips of his ears flush red. "And you could give Finn a run for his money in the looks department. I swear, if you were straight, I would be obsessed with you instead of him."

"I'm so glad that I like boys."

Rachel scoffs. "I'm going to ignore that and pretend you didn't just insult me."

"Good idea."

She flips a page and shakes her head. Seconds later, a warm hand lands on his shoulder and a pair of soft lips press into his cheek. The smell of vanilla and coconut finds him and makes him smile. He doesn't have to look up to know who it is, so he just sips at his coffee and waits for the Slytherin to sit down. Rachel looks up and sends him a light smile. "Hey, Kurt!"

"Hello." His voice less than warm; Blaine thinks back to when Kurt had explicitly called Rachel a "Jewish hobbit" and rolls his eyes. Kurt's dislike for Rachel was almost worse than his aversion to stirrup pants and MySpace for only one reason: She had something he wanted. "How are you?"

"Fantastic!" Rachel chirps happily, gesturing to the music in front of her. "Getting ready for the Christmas Extravaganza."

Kurt perches himself on the bench beside Blaine. "You mean the Christmas Ball."

"I find extravaganza to be a better word for it."

"Of course you do." He holds up a hand when she opens her mouth again and turns pointedly to Blaine, the tiny smile on his lips not quite meeting his eyes. "Cupcake, I've decided on our outfits for tonight."

"Have you? I was just going to wear my maroon cardig—"

"No."

"No?" Blaine reaches across the table and steals a piece of toast from beside Rachel's elbow; Kurt shakes his head. "What, then?"

The Slytherin slivers off the bench and brushes invisible lint off his robes. "I laid it all out for you on your bed."

"How'd you get up there?" He manages to ask around a mouthful of buttery toast.

"I have my ways." He winks one of his glasz eyes and it almost makes Blaine want to punch his smug face.

Or make out with it.

Either one.

* * *

><p>He doesn't even have to ask nicely to get into Gryffindor Tower anymore; the second the Fat Lady sees him, she swings forward with a merry type of shout and without asking for a password.<p>

So he shows himself into Blaine's dormitory without a second thought and, unsurprisingly, finds the boy struggling with his wine red dress shirt. He takes a moment to appreciate the skin tight black skinnies he'd picked out; he's not sure how Blaine's ass manages to look better than his own in them.

"I don't understand why we couldn't just wear regular dress robes!" He spits out angrily when Kurt appears behind him in the mirror. "The buttons on this shirt are so _weird_. I mean, it keeps – It keeps getting – Jesus, what -?"

"Oh, just come here."

His fingers accidently skim the velvety skin of Blaine's smooth chest as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt; they look up at each other, and then look away.

Blaine clears his throat. "Have you thought of any specific dialogue I should be using tonight?"

"Not really," Kurt answers honestly, fingers moving from Blaine's shirt to his bowtie. "I just figured we could…relax a little. Just, you know…act normal."

One of Blaine's eyebrows arches into his curly hair. "You don't think tonight would be a good night to end it?"

"What?" Kurt's fingers slip.

"You know, this way it'll be public and Finn can comfort you and maybe slip himself into my pretend spot, you know?"

The Slytherin coughs. "That's an awful idea."

"Why?"

_Yes, why? _Kurt suddenly can't find any flaw in the proposal. He busies himself by hurriedly buttoning Blaine's blazer correctly.

"Kurt."

Fingers cover his, holding them still. When he looks up, Blaine's doe eyes are so large and intense that he has to look away again. "Because! We still don't know if Finn has any real feelings for –"

"—Well, we'd find that out to—"

"—And even if he _is _gay, I don't want to force himself out of the closet."

Blaine chews idly on his bottom lip, considering this. Kurt tries not to stare as the plush, pink skin turns white under the pressure.

"I think he likes you."

Kurt's eyes flick away from Blaine's lips. "Do you?"

"Yeah, why not? You're beautiful. At least he'll have something to stare at while you try to have an intelligent conversation with him."

"He isn't _that _stupid, Blaine," Kurt huffs, trying not to focus on the fact that _Blaine had just called him beautiful_.

"He once referred to Shakespeare as 'that one flowery guy that wrote about a hot chick dying'."

Kurt laughs. "I'm surprised anyone could figure out he was talking about Shakespeare and not Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Yeah, well, I do know my Muggle literature pretty well, so…" Kurt smirks and finishes Blaine's bowtie quickly, trying not to miss the warmth of the Gryffindor's skin as he pulls away. Once he steps back, Blaine moves to the mirror and inspects himself with a critical eye. After a few moments, he sighs. "Maybe people will be too busy looking at you to notice me."

"Nonsense, you look fantastic." Blaine meets his eyes in the mirror. "Seriously."

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt can't help when his cheeks flame bright red; Blaine's smile reaches his ears. After a beat, Kurt clears his throat. "We should go."

"Yeah." He reaches up to pick at his bowtie; Kurt slaps his fingers away before he can do any damage. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>The Great Hall somehow looks nothing like the Great Hall when they walk through the double doors, hand in hand. There are Christmas decorations placed around with so much tastefulness that Kurt is slightly jealous; from the ceiling, it's snowing tiny paper stars that disappear as soon as they touch anything solid. There's a huge Christmas tree at the center of it all and the only lighting is the holiday colored candles that hover low around them. The music is slow and sensual and it nearly makes Kurt blush.<p>

He feels butterflies dance around the walls of his stomach as Blaine gives his hand a little squeeze and pulls his lightly to where Rachel and Finn are standing awkwardly together.

"Wow, Rachel, you look beautiful," Blaine says immediately, his hand leaving Kurt's in favor of touching the shoulder of her dress. The Ravenclaw beams; Finn looks like he's mentally kicking himself for not saying it first. "If you're date doesn't mind, would you _please _join me for this song? It's my absolute favorite."

Kurt watches Blaine lead Rachel onto the dance for, feeling slightly offended that he hadn't been asked; it takes him a moment – and Finn clearing his throat – for it to register that the Gryffindor was trying to give them time alone. Finn isn't really paying that much attention to him because he has his nose stuck in a gold and red goblet, sucking down the contents like it was liquid heaven. When he sees Kurt staring, he swallows once more and wipes at his mouth.

"So, this is pretty nice, isn't it?" He mumbles quietly, brown eyes traveling over the décor. Kurt shuffles his impeccably incased feet on the red carpet beneath them.

"It's magical," He breathes, and for once, he means it. Finn smiles and nods, understanding, and Kurt is reminded of why he liked the gawky Gryffindor in the first place. They're quiet for a little while, both watching their prospective dates twirl across the dance floor together, and then Kurt asks, "Hey Finn?"

He looks over the top of his goblet. "Yeah?"

"Does it seem like Blaine likes me?"

"Um, I think he's in _love _with you, dude. You guys are perfect for each other." He seems intensely sincere; Kurt twists his mouth in a type of skeptical frown that makes Finn start to nod vigorously in order to convince him. "Seriously, man. I'm surprised you two didn't find each other sooner."

"I –"

"Listen, Kurt," His face turns deadly serious; he even puts down his goblet and takes Kurt by both his shoulders. "Blaine hasn't really…He hasn't had the best time with guys, you know? Either they want too much or they don't want enough and eventually he just throws in the towel. I don't know what made him change his mind with you; I mean, you're a great guy and if I was into dudes, I'd totally bang you…But you're the first relationship that Blaine's been fully committed and happy in. I can see it when he looks at you, you know?"

_No, I don't. _"Yes."

"I know he loves you more than anything. He's just…hard to understand sometimes."

"More than -?"

But then Blaine is there and he's offering Rachel's dainty hand to Finn and snatching Kurt's without a second thought, dragging him onto the full dance floor and spinning him like it was his favorite pastime. Kurt can't help but search his face for that mysterious emotion that Finn had been talking about; he looks into his hazel eyes, glances down at his full lips, and then takes it all in at once.

And finds nothing but elation at being there, in that moment.

He sighs internally. "Stop spinning me, I'm going to be sick."

"Sorry, muffin." He stills and pulls him close, arms wrapped tightly around Kurt's thin waist. He's not looking at the Slytherin; his doe eyes are searching the room, lips turned upward into a smile as he recognizes friends and colleagues dancing alongside them. Kurt's hands rest carefully on the nape of his neck, and he can't help himself from playing with a stray curl there.

Not that Blaine is paying attention.

"I've thought about the holidays."

He meets Kurt's eyes for a millisecond, and then they're gone again. "Have you?"

"I'll come with you."

"You will?" His thumbs rub circles in Kurt's side.

"I owe it to you." He shrugs and steps back as the music ends. Blaine leans forward to kiss him lightly on the lips; he closes his eyes because he's sure that Finn is watching them. When he opens them, he finds the Gryffindor giving him a thumbs-up and Blaine grinning widely at him.

"Thank you."

And as the music starts again and Blaine tugs him back into his arms, Kurt wonders if there was anything worse that he could be doing to himself.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Wahhh. Can't they just get a clue? <em>**

**_Apparently not._**

**_Yet._**

**_;)_**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	7. Chapter 7

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love. **

* * *

><p>Their composed and friendly attitudes toward each other last exactly three days.<p>

After that, Kurt's back to the quips and taunts and Blaine's back to the sarcastic portrayal of the perfect boyfriend that no one ever seems to catch on to. They're back to irritating each other and purposefully tapping directly into each other's biggest pet peeves. They're back to wanting to hex each other and punch each other in the face at the same time, but Kurt just can't help to feel like it's different. _They're _different.

It's almost like they can't hate each other completely, now that they knew each other's secrets and hopes and nightmares. It's almost like they're stuck together perpetually now.

Perpetually, with Finn vigilantly in tow.

"I thought you went home for the holidays," the Frankenteen says, his feet shuffling awkwardly over the good foot of snow that Kurt's suede boots would _just not survive_. In front of them, Blaine's moving through the snow like he was born to live in Russia.

"I usually do, but Muffin wanted me to stay for that ridiculously stupid Christmas Ball."

"I don't remember hearing you _complain_, Cupcake."

Blaine shoots a look over his shoulder and gives a dramatic gasp. "No, never!"

Kurt rolls his eyes and Finn lets out a strangled laugh that the cold air steals from him. "So, you're staying, then?"

"No," Kurt's quick to say, inching ever so closely to Finn in order to collect some of the heat radiating from his tall body. "He's going home tomorrow."

"And he's coming with me."

Finn raises an eyebrow, but reframes from commenting. Blaine doesn't particularly like the way he subconsciously inches a little bit closer to Kurt, the way his chocolate eyes are downcast at Kurt's stubborn face as he struggles through the white fluff, the way he leans down and whispers a tiny quip into the Slytherin's ear.

And he definitely doesn't like the way Kurt laughs, the way he grasps Finn's arm, the way his eyes seem brighter.

So he treks a little faster, leaving them quickly behind.

And Kurt doesn't fail to notice.

"So…how far is Broomsticks again?" He asks Finn tightly as he watches Blaine hurry ahead, the outline of the small village just coming into view.

"We're almost there. Everything okay between you two?" He's gesturing toward Blaine's back as it disappears into the Three Broomsticks and Kurt can't help but let out a long sigh of discontentment and exasperation. Finn seems to take that as an answer and nods knowingly, as if Kurt's tired huff had given him some type of insight. He wonders if Finn just didn't want to listen to him complain about his "boyfriend", or if the Gryffindor legitimately thought he understood.

By the way he offers an outstretched hand, presenting help Kurt with his seemingly eternal trek over the snow and ice, the Slytherin guesses the latter.

When they finally squeeze through the from doors of the pub, Blaine's already lounging in a booth with three butterbeers, his jacket thrown haphazardly to the side, sleeves of his navy jumper rolled up to the elbow. Kurt rolls his eyes when he notices that the curly head isn't alone; there's a boyish-looking Ravenclaw standing shyly beside the table, exchanging flirty words with the ever handsome Blaine.

Finn collapses across from him with a heavy sigh, ignoring the Ravenclaw, and seizes a butterbeer without consent. Kurt, however, was not one to forget his manners.

"Who's this, Muffin?" He says sweetly, his smile anything but friendly. Blaine glances at him, and then gives a self-satisfied smile.

"This is Noah. Noah, this is Kurt. My…" There's a moment of silence while Blaine pretends to search for the word and Kurt boils internally.

"Boyfriend! I'm his boyfriend!"

The Ravenclaw arches an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Leave. _Now_."

He holds up his hands like a white flag and moves around Kurt's obscuring figure to shoot Blaine a lopsided grin and wink that makes the Slytherin want to draw his wand. He doesn't though, because Blaine's not even looking at the boy; he's staring right at Kurt with a sickeningly smug smile, wide hazel eyes locked hard onto Kurt's marine ones.

Finn, however, breaks their intense staring competition with the clearing of his throat and a timid, "Do you guys need a minute to -?"

"Nope!" Blaine pops the "p" in the world harshly and stands, snatching his empty butterbeer as he does. "I'm almost empty; be right back."

Kurt slams himself into the previously occupied seat and bangs his forehead against the surface of the table, ignoring Finn's sharp intake of breath as it made a callous thumping noise. His lips are pressed against the wood, but he still manages to mumble out, "_He. Is. Such. A. Douchebag."_

And then there's a hand rubbing circles into his back comfortingly and Finn's leaning close to his ear and whispering, "He's just being stupid, Kurt. It's okay," and Kurt can't help but be reminded of why he liked Finn so goddamn much.

He lifts his head again and uses his fingers to comb his hair back into place. When he meets Finn's eyes, they're warm and sympathetic and Kurt kind of just wants to hug him forever.

And then Blaine is there, carrying a butterbeer and a rose, probably given to him from _Noah_.

"Move over, fatty. I can't fit on that bench if you leave your blubber out to –"

"Jesus, Anderson, stop being so mean to him!"

There's a long silence while both Kurt and Blaine stare at Finn in surprise and something like admiration. The Gryffindor flushes, his high cheek bones flushing deep pink, and his lips are parted like he wants to say more. So he does.

"Kurt's nothing but sweet to you all the time, dude. Don't treat him like that."

His voice is weaker this time, but it still makes Kurt's heart jump into his throat. He tears his eyes away from Finn only long enough to cast a glance in Blaine's direction…and finds his heart plummeting to the rocky bottom of his stomach.

Because _god_, does Blaine look sad. Sad and hurt and thoroughly confused, as though Finn had said something entirely out of character. He swallows thickly and lightly places his butterbeer onto the table and, without a word, walks to the door and disappears, the rose still clutched in his left fist.

Once he's gone, Finn dissolves into a nervous wreck. "Oh my god, I was totally out of line. I'm so sorry, Kurt, I'll go after him and explain –"

"No." Kurt finally has the strength to close his mouth; he knows it's probably been hanging open since Finn first stood up for him. He drops his eyes to the bench and they land on a warm pea coat. Blaine's. "You weren't out of line, Finn. He was being a jerk. I'd better go…I should probably go get him before he dies of hypothermia."

Finn nods shakily and starts to stand, but Kurt stops him with a hand. He doesn't need to explain; somehow, Finn understands and sits back down.

"I'll wait for you here."

* * *

><p>It's not hard to find Blaine; he just follows the trail of rose petals, ripped from the flower in anger, and finds him slowly pacing outside the Shrieking Shack with only a stem.<p>

"That was quite a dramatic exit, Anderson," Kurt drawls as soon as he gets close, finding satisfaction in the way Blaine jumps at his voice. "You almost did the stereotype justice."

"I really don't want to talk to you right now."

Kurt perches lightly on a stone a few yards away from the pacing Gryffindor and sighs. "But I come with gifts."

Blaine stops pacing long enough to watch Kurt swing his jacket around in the air and then offer it with a soft, shrewd smile. And then promptly begins pacing again.

"I don't want that."

"But it's freezing! Literally. There's snow."

"Kurt."

He's quiet for a moment, because Blaine's face had lost all traces of anger and now only held exhaustion and pain, as though Kurt's very presence was causing him to ache. So Kurt lets him pace, footsteps making a clear path in the snow, and pretends not to notice the tremors of cold rivet through his body as it finally gets to him.

There's a moment when Blaine stops pacing and laces his fingers into the fence separating them from the old, haunted house, his head hanging between his arms in a total surrender. His chest his moving harshly with his breathing and Kurt shifts anxiously on his rock.

Because honestly, he doesn't want the egotistical dick to catch a cold.

So he slips off his rock and moves carefully toward him, yielding the jacket in front of him like some sort of peace offering.

When he doesn't move to take it, when he doesn't move at all, Kurt reaches out tentatively and pulls one of his hands away from the fence. The contrast of Kurt's warm skin to Blaine's icy exterior is shocking; Kurt slips his arm into the jacket as quickly as he can. He follows suit with the other arm and finally, with nervous, skittering fingers, manages to button it all the way up.

And the whole time, Blaine's just looking at him with an expression of complete defeat. He looks so tired, so resentful, and it makes Kurt so entirely uncomfortable. He doesn't want to think that he's the reason for it all, for the undeniable longing in Blaine's features. He doesn't like sadness in Blaine's face at all; he realizes the boy looked so much better with a smile on his lips instead of the hard frown that was threatening to droop even lower.

So he pulls the Gryffindor into a tight hug, nestling his nose into the crook of Blaine's cold neck, and breathes "I forgive you" like it mattered, like Blaine cared.

By the way Blaine's arms snake around his waist, by the way he relaxes under his arms and pulls him close, he just might.

* * *

><p>They avoid each other for the next few days; Blaine's not sure how they managed to mutually steer clear of one another, but the next time he sees Kurt, they're climbing onto the train together.<p>

He takes Kurt's hand carefully and leads him to an empty compartment near the back of the train. The second Kurt's backside sits the cushioned seat, Blaine experiences the worst case of word barf he'd ever faced before.

"Look, Kurt, I'm a dick, okay? I was just angry because you drove Noah away but I realized later that I didn't even really _care_ about that kid and I just…overreacted. You're amazing for coming home with me over the holidays, and Finn was right; you've been nothing but kind. I know you said that you forgive me, but I just want you to know that I didn't mean it."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Apology accepted."

And suddenly, Blaine can breathe again.

* * *

><p>Kurt realizes – maybe a little too late – that he is <em>way <em>out of his league when they appear in front of the Anderson home, Blaine's hand still clasped tightly in his own. It's probably the biggest house he's ever seen, with huge, gaping windows and double front doors that somehow remind him comfortingly of Hogwarts. There's ivy growing up the brick and, if Kurt leans a little to the left, he can see the beginning of a rose garden in the backyard.

There's a woman sitting on the front steps cradling a steaming cup of coffee in both hands and wrapped in a wool sweater; Kurt swears Blaine's mumbles something like "_Oh, Mother,_" before he tugs carefully on Kurt's hand and they move toward her together.

Blaine had been lying when he said that he got all his looks from his father; Mrs. Anderson has kind hazel eyes that her son seemed to have inherited. She's warm and kind and when Kurt offers her a handshake, she pulls him into a hug instead. She kisses her son softly on the cheek and tells him sternly to "Show Kurt around, honey, and put his stuff upstairs! You two must be exhausted."

The inside of the Anderson house is even more spectacular; Kurt swears that most of the furnishings had to have come from a museum. There are Dali's and Michelangelo's on the walls and 1st Edition Dickens' on the extensive bookshelves and Kurt suddenly can't find his breath.

"Most of this stuff I don't even remember – Hey, are you okay?"

"Yes," Kurt says immediately, avoiding Blaine's concerned doe eyes. "Just a little overwhelmed."

He gives a tiny laugh and takes Kurt's hand in his again; somehow it grounds him, makes him steady, and then Blaine is tugging him down a long hallway and up a flight of stairs and suddenly Kurt can breathe again.

The room is small and warm and it smells like Blaine's cologne. The double bed is made to perfection, but Blaine tosses their coats onto it without concern and collapses onto the small couch that was set up near a small television.

Kurt sets himself on the edge of the bed and breathes in. "I'm guessing this is your room?"

"More like my _sanctuary_," Blaine says breathily, sighing and letting his head roll back onto a cushion. "The house is so stifling; I just find it easier to _live _up here."

Kurt isn't sure if it would be rude to agree with him, so he remains silent and smoothes his fingers over the comforter.

"Thank you, Kurt." It's abrupt and Kurt's heart skips a beat when Blaine jumps across the room to sink down beside him. "This means so much to my mom, you have no idea."

"It's…I mean, I owe you this much, don't I?"

"Still." Blaine smoothes a hand over his knee. "Thank you."

There's a few seconds of silence that are in no way uncomfortable; Kurt just smiles and gives a jerky "you're welcome" nod.

"So…she doesn't expect us to actually sleep in the same room, does she?" Kurt asks finally, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Blaine winces.

"That's something I forgot to mention. My mom's a bit of a free spirit."

"She lets you have sex under her roof?"

"Technically, but we won't be having sex, now will we?" Blaine winks at him and Kurt responds by sending his elbow sharply into the Gryffindor's ribs. "Ow."

He stands, and for a second, Kurt was legitimately concerned that he's hurt the boy, but Blaine just collapses back onto the couch. "You can get changed in the bathroom; it's that door over there."

It only takes him a few minutes to locate his pajamas in his trunk and less than that to put them on. But he can't help himself from glancing through the products Blaine had laid out in the bathroom, from admiring the lotions and aftershaves and hair gels. He was so organized, so clean, so _perfect._

When he moves back into the bedroom, Blaine's flipping through a newspaper in a pair of gray sweatpants.

"So…"

Blaine looks up from his issue of the Prophet and finds Kurt surveying his room like it was No-Man's Land. "Problem?"

"What's the sleeping arrangement?" He looks so damn uncomfortable, standing barefoot in the center of the room, that it's almost cute. Blaine looks back down at the headlines.

"Me, here." He points to his backside, which is currently still planted on his couch. "You, there."

Kurt regards the double bed with something like sheer bliss; Blaine catches him fingering the soft comforter over the top of his newspaper. He watches Kurt push back the covers gently and, in one swift movement, throw himself into the cocoon of blankets. Blaine swears he hears him purr.

So the Gryffindor throws down his Prophet, pulls out his wand, and whispers, "_Knox._"

They're drowned in darkness.

Blaine hears a little cough and then a tentative, "Goodnight, Blaine"

"'Night, Hummel."

"Seriously?"

"_Goodnight, Kurt_."

"Much better."

"Tell me about the other one."

There's a long silence, one that makes Blaine severely anxious, and then, "No."

"Please?"

"Why?"

"I'm curious."

"No."

"Pleasey pleasey pleasey pleasey pleasey –"

"Fine!"

"Yes!"

"Sam."

"…What about him?"

"…Really?"

"Oh. _Oh._"

"Yeah. He dumped me for Quinn, that blonde Hufflepuff." Even in the darkness, Blaine can almost see Kurt blushing furiously. He flips over to his other side and they're quiet for a few minutes before Blaine can no longer take the silence.

"Wow. Sammy Evans is bi. Wow."

"Yes, and he can be a total _douche_. So I wouldn't suggest going there."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you planning on it? I mean…he's not dating Quinn anymore, and we both know he's sexy as hell, and you get along well, and –"

"Kurt, you just told me not to go there."

"Well, that's just from personal experience, so…I don't know, you might click with –"

"I'm sort of interested in someone else." The darkness suddenly seemed far too heavy, as did the silence. Blaine fidgets uncomfortably. "Kurt? Did you fall asleep?"

"Who?" He voice sounds small. Blaine tells himself to ignore it.

"Um. You wouldn't know him."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm probably not helping."

"Uh—"

"I mean, I'm your pretend boyfriend. He thinks you're off the market, right?"

"Um—"

"You could tell him or something. I don't—"

"Actually, I don't really like him that much."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Mhm."

"Hey, Blaine?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"You don't have to sleep on the couch."

Kurt listens to the darkness and hears the shifting of weight on cushions. He hears the soft padding of feet on hardwood floor and then the covers are thrown back. His heartbeat speeds up as soon as he feels Blaine lower himself onto the mattress and, maybe without realizing it, his toes smooth against the bottom of Kurt's cold foot.

When they wake up the next day, they're tangled in each others arms.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Lord. This was tortuous to write. :_**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	8. Chapter 8

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

**AN: I know, very quick update. But I wrote this on Sunday and decided that I'd post it...It's kind of short, but a looot happens. Also, I plagiarized myself a few times in here, so if you can find it, kudos. ;)**

* * *

><p>Kurt wakes up alone. It takes him a moment to place where he is; the Gryffindor colored flags pinned to the yellow walls make Kurt sigh. He turns over and touches the empty space beside him, fingering the soft imprint that Blaine had left behind. It's still warm. He lets his head fall onto Blaine's borrowed pillow and, without thinking, inhales deeply, smelling the delicious mixture of Blaine's skin and his shampoo and something so indescribably <em>male<em>.

He sits up and rubs tiredly at his eyes. When he sticks his toes out from under the blankets, they're met with cold air. He wrinkles his nose and pulls them back inside.

"I'd wear socks if I were you." His drawling voice floats out from the bathroom door as it swings open and there he is, standing there in a tight white tee shirt and possibly tighter jeans, his hair loose and damp from the probable shower he had just stepped out of. Kurt's throat is suddenly impossibly dry. "It gets cold in here, since the house is so old and everything. My mom usually magics it to stay warmer than this, but…she probably forgot. Here…"

He tosses a pair of thick wool socks at Kurt's gaping face; the boy's reflexes are just fast enough to catch them before they come in contact.

The smirk on Blaine's face is both deeply irritating and insanely attractive; Kurt sneers back at him.

"Come on. Breakfast."

They walk downstairs together; the smell of bacon and coffee finds their noses, and Blaine carefully entwines their fingers as they get closer to a wide, bright room.

The Anderson kitchen was instantaneously Kurt's favorite room in the entire house; it had huge, yawning windows that allowed gold light to stream through them, brightening the ornate cabinets and appliances and baby blue walls. Mrs. Anderson is carefully inspecting a pan of bacon that was flipping itself; to her left, a pot of coffee is pouring three cups without help.

Blaine nudges him toward a seat at the thick oak table and crosses the room to press a soft kiss to his mother's cheek. There's something about the way his eyes lessen at the sight of her, the way his had rubs smooth circles into her back and his lips tug upward into a smile at her prying questions, that makes the Gryffindor entirely different in Kurt's critical eyes. He guesses that it's because he'd never seen this side of Blaine, the soft side, and it's honestly one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

It's when they're all sitting down with heaping plates of eggs and bacon and sausage that Mrs. Anderson starts asking questions.

"So, tell me: how did you find each other after all this time?"

Kurt chokes a little on his coffee and Blaine has to pat him violently on the back. It's so odd, eerie, having Mrs. Anderson remember him playing in the sandbox with her son while he had no conscious memory of her – and only the slightest memory of Blaine – at all. Next to him, Blaine comes to his rescue. "We have a few of the same classes at Hogwarts. In all honesty, it took us a few weeks to remember that we knew each other when we were young."

"You didn't _know each other_." Mrs. Anderson sniffed. "You were _inseparable_."

Kurt wonders if Blaine had ever bothered to tell her that _he, _Kurt Hummel, had personally made her son's life a living hell for the past five years. By the way she's grinning at him, he severely doubts it.

But he can't help himself; he smiles back.

* * *

><p>They spend the rest of the day tromping around the Anderson house, Kurt's curious eyes peering intriguingly into every room and Blaine providing an ongoing, sardonic monologue of his lonely upbringing there. Eventually, though, as the sun dips below the horizon, they end up in the huge living room lounging on the hysterically expensive couches and watching a Broadway musical on the large television. And while Kurt is trying not to cry as Gene Kelley races after his love, Blaine slips out of the room. Kurt only notices he'd left because he eventually comes back, holding a small, murky bottle of god knows what.<p>

"What is that?" Kurt asks, voice small. Blaine picks at the wax seal and crawls onto the couch beside him.

"Fire Whiskey. I swear my mom's had it since I was born. I figured we could have a little fun."

"I don't drink." It's immediate and juvenile and Kurt's cheeks flush dark red at the sound of his own distain. Blaine, though, just smiles.

"Neither do I."

It only takes that little grin, that tiny confession, to make Kurt feel entirely comfortable. So he takes the bottle and sips, feeling the liquid burn down his throat. It tastes like fire and magic and Kurt immediately wants to both puke it back up and drink more.

It only takes them a few long sips for them to get totally wasted. They end up singing along to Singin' in the Rain far too loudly, and Blaine even manages to execute a few sloppy dance steps that Kurt can't help chortling over.

In fact, Kurt _can't stop laughing_. They stand up on the couch and jump like there was lava beneath their feet until Kurt decides to grab a hold of Blaine's shirt and pull him close.

"Hol-Holy crap, Blaine, oh my _god! _Your eyebrows are like tiny…triangles. Triangles on your face! Wait, wait, wait…wiggle them."

"Like this? Am I doing -?"

"Yeeeeeeees, oh my god. That is _so _funny."

Blaine shoves his hand away when he reaches to touch them and unexpectedly loses his footing on the couch; Kurt still has one had fisted in his tee shirt and suddenly they're both plummeting to the floor together. Kurt's chin slams into Blaine's hard chest, and Blaine's head connects with the hardwood floor, but somehow, it doesn't hurt as bad as it should, and they're laughing their asses off. Kurt's sniggering is probably embarrassing, but he can't bring himself to care. Blaine's laughing fully, loud and honest, and it's probably the nicest thing that the Slytherin had heard in awhile.

It's when Blaine takes two very deep breathes and they calm down that things started to get interesting.

Blaine pushes them into a sitting position, his slow motor skills fast enough to snatch Kurt's arm as he starts to tumble out of his lap, and grins so widely at him that the taller boy can't help but smile back. There's a moment of silence when they feel incredibly dizzy and lucid at the same time, their heads swimming and their eyes unfocused.

But then they seem to sober in a matter of seconds.

Blaine's fingers are still smoothing down the arm that he'd snatched as Kurt fell, and Kurt's forever long legs are wrapped around his waist, grounding him.

They're _so close _and Kurt can smell the tantalizing mixture of Blaine's cologne and the natural smell of his skin.

There's hesitation, because they're drunk and Blaine has no idea what he's doing.

But when Blaine kisses him, when he finally takes that leap of faith and presses his lips into Kurt's, he's incredibly surprised.

Because Kurt responded so quickly, so passionately, that it was impossible for Blaine to have any type of doubt at all.

Because Kurt feels like _fire; _hot and blazing, thrilling, gorgeous.

Because every nerve on Blaine's body feels like it's exploding, erupting like fireworks and sending electric tremors through him.

Like lightening.

Like he's waited ceaselessly to feel this way, like he's waited forever for Kurt.

Suddenly, Blaine's hands are everywhere. They're under Kurt's shirt, they're raking a hand through his soft hair, they're clenching his hips, pulling the countertenor as close as possible, impatiently exploring every inch of Kurt's perfect body as though he'd never get the chance again.

And Kurt's making the most _incredible _noises Blaine had ever heard, his head tossed back, pupils blown. The Gryffindor's lips journey across Kurt's jaw, licking and biting his way down the Slytherin's neck, savoring the flavor of the soft skin at his collar bone.

Kurt's cold fingertips smooth across his stomach. There's a soft ripping noise; Blaine looks down just in time to see the buttons on his shirt roll away from them. He opens his mouth to reprimand him, but can't find the words as Kurt's hips rotate into his.

Kurt's teeth nip at his jugular; Blaine knows there will be a bruise there when he wakes up.

He lifts his lips, seeking hungrily for Kurt's, and they met each other halfway, kissing each other as deeply and fully as they possibly could in that moment.

And in that moment, in Blaine's hazy, drunken mind, he had an epiphany.

"I love you."

Everything came to a deafening stop.

The soft rhythm of Kurt's hips, the nipping at Blaine's raw skin. He pulls his lips away from Blaine's skin and meets his eyes.

"What?"

Blaine runs his fingers over a few notches in Kurt's spine and licks his lips. "Nothing."

But the damage is done; Kurt untangles their limbs and crawls out of Blaine's lap. He looks lost and petrified. "I want to go to bed now."

"Okay."

So he takes Kurt by the hand and, together, they stumble upstairs. It's when they both collapse into Blaine's double bed, when Kurt snuggles close to the warmth of Blaine's heated body, that Blaine realizes that it isn't nothing.

He's desperately in love with Kurt Hummel, his _fake_ boyfriend, his enemy, his closest friend.

And Kurt didn't want anything to do with him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>PLEASE don't kill me.<em>**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	9. Chapter 9

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>When Blaine wakes up, he swears that someone's bashing him in the head with a hammer. He groans and cradles it, palms against his forehead like they would press away the pain. When he rolls over, his squinted eyes land on the smooth slope of the back of Kurt's neck. He swallows.<p>

He can't remember exactly what happened, or how, but he can remember how it felt, how Kurt felt against him, and it makes his stomach twist terribly.

He closes his eyes.

Beside him, Kurt turns over and one of his legs slips itself between his thighs and Blaine subconsciously reaches out to smooth his fingers over the subtle notch of Kurt's hipbone. There's a moment when Kurt's head slips into the crook of Blaine's neck and the Gryffindor can feel his eyelashes fluttering against his skin…and then the lithe body is slipping back.

Blaine opens his eyes.

Kurt's moaning as he inches carefully away from Blaine; he's trying incredibly hard to rub away the pain at his temples.

"Are you okay?" Blaine ventures softly as the Slytherin pulls himself into a sitting position and they both become painfully aware that both of their shirts are gone.

_When did that happen?_

"My head feels like it's about to explode." Kurt mumbles out; Blaine runs a comforting hand up his back and watches goosebumps follow his fingers, bumps rising from Kurt's perfect skin. Subtly as possible, he moves away from Blaine's touch. "What happened last night?"

Blaine sinks into the mattress and tucks a hand behind his head, wondering where in the world he should begin. At the beginning, probably. "We drank a lot of Fire Whisky."

Kurt nods and pulls the sheet around him, the linen smoothing over his skin. "Is that all?"

And Blaine is faced with a hard decision. He could tell Kurt what happened, the whole truth, and the boy would probably run back to Hogwarts as fast as he could. Or he could lie and keep Kurt near him for a little while longer.

Somehow, the notion of having no Kurt at all was worse than having Just-Friends Kurt, and Blaine finds himself saying, "Yeah, basically. I can't really remember anything else."

The Slytherin lets out a long sigh of relief and crawls out of bed. There's two presents waiting at the base of the bed and Kurt's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Did your mom-?"

"She probably just magicked them up here." Blaine reassures him as Kurt blushes at the thought of Mrs. Anderson seeing his bare chest. "Happy Christmas, by the way."

* * *

><p>Kurt's wrapped tightly in the olive green knit sweater Mrs. Anderson had given him, knuckles white from grasping the chains of the swing, when Blaine finally finds him again. The shorter boy comes to a stop in front of the feebly swaying Slytherin and cocks his head to the side. "This swing set hasn't had any use since my cousins visited when I was ten. I'm surprised the chains haven't broken by now."<p>

"They seem fine to me." Kurt mumbles quietly, using his nail to chip at the rust dotting the metal. Blaine sets himself carefully in the swing beside him and tucks his hands into the pockets of his peacoat.

"You don't have to wear it." The Gryffindor says, looking over at Kurt with a tiny smile. "My mother just has this thing with sweaters and people she's just met, so –"

"I love it."

"Oh."

He swallows. "I just forgot how it felt, to have family on Christmas."

Blaine takes one hand out of his jacket and pats his shoulder in a comforting way that just makes Kurt miss the warmth when he withdraws it soon after. "Why don't you go home? I thought you said your dad was—"

"He is." Kurt says quickly, digging his toes into the frozen ground as best he could. "But we're not as well off as your family is. Train tickets; not exactly the cheapest things."

"I get it."

There's a silence, a comfortable one, and Kurt can't help but smile because someone finally understands him.

And then Blaine slides off his swing and moves around to grab the chains of Kurt's swing instead and drags him backward.

"What are you _doing?"_

"Giving you a push, silly."

"I swear, Anderson, if you make me fall off, I'll—"

"I'm not going to push you off. Relax."

And they fall into a smooth rhythm of Kurt's swinging legs propelling him forward and Blaine's sturdy hands pressing into his hips every time he swung back. It probably would have been cute, Kurt reasons, if someone was watching; but it's just them, only them, and it's brilliant.

Blaine catches him on a backward swing, holding fast to his waist and holding him close, breathing softly into the shell of his ear, "Have you ever stood up on a swing before?"

"No."

"You should."

So he helps him up, Kurt's designer boots resting in the thin leather seat, and Blaine's fingers are rubbing circles into his hipbones, holding him in place.

Only Kurt had perfect balance, so he really didn't need any holding at all.

His knuckles are turning white from holding onto the chain so tightly but Blaine's looking up at him with those huge hazel eyes and he realizes if he dipped his head, just a little, their lips would meet, and Blaine absolutely _has _to kiss him, right now, in this moment, or Kurt would surely explode into a thousand needy pieces of –

"Boys! Dinner!"

Blaine's eyes are gone, and so is the moment. Kurt sighs and climbs down from the swing without any help. They walk back to the house in relative silence that's full of emotion, which Kurt is probably imagining, because Blaine seems utterly oblivious to it.

* * *

><p>"Hey, I got you something."<p>

Blaine looks up from his prophet and his heart plummets to his knees, because there's Kurt, standing in a far too big button-up (_and only a button-up)_, holding a small present with a tiny red bow.

And if Kurt would just strut around in that shirt _(and only that shirt_), Blaine would have his Christmas wish.

The Slytherin crawls onto the bed and folds his legs beneath him, offering the box over with a small smile. "Don't worry; it's not going to explode or something."

Blaine can barely manage a smirk. He carefully peels off the wrapping paper and, pushing it aside, beams. "Katy Perry! Thank you! I've been meaning to buy this, but I have to get muggle money and that's always a hassle, so…thank you!"

He gives Kurt a quick, one-armed hug that he would usually give someone like Santana and severely lacked any type of fondness. The Slytherin doesn't seem to notice.

"I've been meaning to give you…hold on…it's in my…Oh, here it is." He pulls a small bag out of his bedside table and drops it into Kurt's lap, careful to make no physical contact.

He gingerly digs through the tissue and ribbon and finally pulls out a elaborately folded piece of paper. "It's a…"

"Dior Gray origami stag." Blaine offers quietly, playing anxiously with the edge of his tee shirt. "I remember you talking about how much you love deer, and your favorite color is Dior Gray, soI—"

This time, he isn't cut off by Kurt's words. Instead, he's cut off by the sharp dragging of his body into the Slytherin's, by the tightest and warmest hug he's ever received. He tucks his nose into the crook of Kurt's neck and breathes in.

The taller boy chokes out, "This is probably the most original and most thoughtful gift anyone's ever given me," and Blaine can't help but hold him tighter and hope that somehow, he'd never have to let go.

* * *

><p><strong><em>PLEASE don't kill me.<em>**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	10. Chapter 10

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>A few days after Christmas, they wake up in a mess of limbs again, and Blaine pretends that he doesn't notice when Kurt's lips press unintentionally into the back of his neck.<p>

He pretends that his skin doesn't feel like its on fire when Kurt's hand somehow ends up smoothing across the panes of his stomach in sleep, or when he can feel every inch of the boy pressed against him from behind.

He feels almost like he's going to explode from the intensity of emotions that's building inside him, the tension of absolutely _needing to touch him_, so he inches as carefully he can away from Kurt's dangerous fingers and slips out of the warm bed and into the cool morning air that was filtering into his bedroom from the cracked window.

He rubs a hand through his curly hair as he slides soundlessly into the bathroom, the door closing behind him silently. When he rests his palms on the sink and glances upward into the mirror, he tells himself to get a grip.

"Kurt loves Finn. Kurt loves Finn. Kurt loves Finn," He murmurs quietly, noticing the way his own lips were unpersuasive, even to himself. "It's all pretend, it's all pretend, it's all –"

"Blaine?"

One of his palms slip; he catches himself at the last moment. "Yeah?"

"Are you almost done? I have to pee so badly."

"Oh." When he opens the door, he gets an eyeful of messy, sexy hair and bright, colorful irises. Kurt's probably too tired to notice him staring, but he forces himself to look away anyway. "Sorry."

"Is'fine." The Slytherin mumbles out as he stumbles pass Blaine, rubbing his beautiful eyes as he goes, and the door shuts with a sharp snap behind him. The shorter boy rests on the edge of his bed and plays with the bottom of his tee shirt as he waits patiently, and starts to fall back behind the wall he created to separate himself from his feelings for his fake boyfriend. When Kurt opens the door again, his hair is under control again and his eyes look wider, brighter.

Blaine swallows. "Sleep well?"

Kurt glances at him, something in his eyes shifting, and then sits carefully down beside him. "Well enough. What's on the schedule today?"

"My mother likes to have a New Year's party. They'll be a few people coming, but nothing to worry about, really." He says, lifting one shoulder and trying not to stare as Kurt smoothes a hand over his tee shirt.

"Sounds good."

And then they go about the morning purposefully dancing around each other, avoiding each other's eyes as though they both knew they'd find something inside them that they didn't want to.

So Kurt ignores the way Blaine's shirt rides up as he helps his mother take down Christmas lights, Blaine ignores the way Kurt's jeans are tighter than spandex shorts. Kurt ignores it when Blaine's fingers skim across his lower back when he teeters unstably on the ladder as he plucks the angel off the top of the tree, and Blaine ignores it when Kurt grabs him by the hips to pull him out of the way as Mrs. Anderson accidently drops a glass ornament.

Mostly, though, they can't help but stare when the other wasn't looking.

They both tell themselves that they're being stupid, that it's nothing and the tight, fluttering feelings in their chests and stomachs would disappear eventually.

Eventually.

They set up long tables with magicked food and punch and Mrs. Anderson helps them conjure a DJ that starts to play Broadway tunes and Top 40 mixes in the ballroom that Kurt can't help but sway to.

It's when people start to arrive at the house as the sun goes down that they finally look at each other. Blaine crooks his lips upward into a tiny smile and takes Kurt's hand gently in his.

The Gryffindor does his best to introduce Kurt to everyone that filters through the front door, but there's a lot of them, and sometimes Blaine can't even remember their names. It's a mixture of family and friends, distant and close, Hogwarts students and neighbors, and Kurt can't help but feel entirely uncomfortable at the assortment of warm and cold smiles he was getting.

But Blaine's fingers are strong in his, holding them tightly, and it gives him a sense of calm.

Because somehow, Blaine had become _home._

Kurt's heart drops somewhere near his navel and decides that he _really can't do this to himself, _so he retracts his hand from Blaine's and turns to get punch, or a cookie, or something, when –

"Kurt!"

There are arms, warm and awkward, wrapping around his shoulders and Kurt is lifted off the floor.

"Finn?" He looks up and meets a pair of big chocolate eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited! By Blaine!"

Kurt's feet are returned to the floor and his eyes return to Blaine's surprised face.

Of course. Invited by _Blaine_.

Because Blaine didn't love him.

Because they were pretend boyfriends, and Blaine was only doing the right thing by trying to help him.

Because _Blaine didn't love him_.

"You do not look very happy to see me," Finn pouts, interrupting his internal epiphany and heartbreak. Kurt tears his eyes from Blaine's face even as the Gryffindor opens his mouth to say something and dives in for another tight hug from his supposed crush. The Frankenteen gives a little laugh and hugs him back, holding him a little awkwardly, and then steps back. "So is there food? I'm starving."

Kurt purposefully avoids Blaine's hazel eyes as he takes Finn's hand in his own and forces out, "Of course! I'll show you!"

Finn looks a little surprised, but it's replaced by elation when Kurt stops a little short of the three long tables he'd helped Blaine set up earlier. He gives the Frankenteen a plate and ushers him down the room; he pretends not to notice when Blaine slips in and leans against the doorframe.

It would be easy, maybe, if Blaine hadn't been wearing that black sweater that hugged him in all the right places, or if his hair hadn't been free from gel, or if his hazel eyes hadn't been so bright.

But it isn't easy, and Finn notices.

"Are you guys okay?" His voice is low and he dips his head so the words move directly to Kurt's ear. "It seems like you're avoiding each other."

Kurt swallows and drops a cannoli onto Finn's plate without his permission. "I guess we've just been together for too long. 24/7 gets a little tiring, you know."

Finn nods. "I understand."

Kurt feels the familiar rush of affection for him, but it's platonic now. Brotherly, almost. He holds in a deep sigh as the Gryffindor takes a larger-than-anticipated bite out of the cannoli and sends a wide, cream-filled grin in Blaine's direction.

When Kurt shoots a little glance back at him, he finds the curly haired Anderson chatting amiably with a boy that looked oddly familiar.

"Who's that?" He asks Finn quietly, turning his back on the two as Blaine's eyes flick toward them.

Finn glances upward subtly and, around a mouthful of pastry, whispers, "Sebastian Smyth. From your house?"

Sebastian Smyth. Kurt's heart plummets for the second time that night. It was no secret that Sebastian was bad news, and if he was talking to Blaine…Well, it wouldn't be very long until the Gryffindor was being stripped in the back of the prefect bathroom.

Stripped.

Kurt's eyebrow twitches upward.

Blaine, without a shirt.

Blaine, with his head thrown back.

Blaine, the muscles in his back rippling as –

"Kurt?"

He jumps about ten feet and lifts a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly against it. Finn's eyebrows are drawn together in concern, but he's still chewing slowly on his cannoli, so Kurt figures he hadn't read his mind somehow. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"Yeah, Smyth's bad news." Finn snorts angrily, picking up a cookie. "Blaine knows that, though. Smyth's been trying to get into his pants since fourth year."

Kurt's eyebrows jump up his forehead, and Finn feels the need to add, "With barely any success, too."

"Barely?"

"They…It was like…I mean, they went out, like, once. Blaine said he was getting way too handsy, so he left. It wasn't a big deal, I promise." Finn's chocolate eyes are anywhere but Kurt's; it's like he's broken some type of Bro-Code with Blaine by revealing this part of the Gryffindor that Kurt obviously hadn't known about.

The Slytherin glances toward the door and realizes that both Sebastian and Blaine have disappeared; he feels the sudden burn of white hot anger and takes Finn's free hand in his own again. "Come on; let's go check out the ballroom."

* * *

><p>The classy, poised Anderson ballroom is a mess of cheap, shameful dancing. It's hot and there are lights everywhere, flashing and throbbing and it just adds to the sexy atmosphere. Kurt wrinkles his nose; it seems like every single teenager in the entire house had migrated to that room, all in order to rub against each other. Finn's brown eyes are huge as they sweep the room.<p>

Kurt's immediately drawn to the rhythmic sway of a pair of jean-clad hips near the center of the room, hips that were being held onto by a pair of large, thin hands.

Finn leans down to ear level again. "I told you that he was bad news."

Blaine's thinking nearly the same thing, because _god, Sebastian was still handsy._ He was hot, sure, but his green eyes weren't nearly as beautiful as Kurt's, and his hands, every trying to control Blaine's moving hips, just felt wrong against him.

Not that he'd admit it, with Kurt standing so close to Finn in the doorway.

So he only _kind of _pushes Sebastian's hands away as they dip a little lower and only _kind of _backs up when the Slytherin tries to get closer to him.

When he looks back toward the doorway, Kurt is gone.

When he looks into the crowd, he finds the lithe body again.

Dancing with Finn.

Dancing with Finn, with his arms looped around the Frankteen's neck, lips near his ear, speaking quietly into it. Sebastian pulls him close just as Kurt laughs expressively at something Finn says and Blaine really just can't take it anymore.

Blaine's heart is somewhere near his knees, so he can't help himself from shoving Sebastian away from him _hard. _

He doesn't hear the boy curse at him, or call him a tease; all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart, all he can see is Kurt's marine eyes trained delightedly on Finn's dopey face, all he can feel is the throbbing of the bass drum in the soles of his shoes.

So when he grabs Kurt's arm and pulls him around, facing each other as both of their chests heave, it's no shocker that the boy looks surprised.

"What are you doing?" His breath ghosts lightly over Blaine's parted lips.

"Kissing you."

So he does, and it's like butterflies and fireworks and Kurt tastes _just _like Blaine remembers. Kurt's hand comes up to grasp at the back of his neck, pulling him close, deepening the kiss that somehow went from sweet to something harder, needier, dirtier.

There's a twist in Blaine's stomach because he knows that Kurt's doing it for show, for Finn's benefit, and that hurts.

He finds himself, suddenly, wanting all of Kurt.

Not just pretend-Kurt, not just mean -Kurt, not just cute-Kurt, not obsessed-with-Finn-Kurt.

All of him.

Every flaw, perfection, fear, dream, hope, emotion, _everything_.

But as the Slytherin pulls away, his forehead resting against Blaine's sweaty curls and their eyes meet, he knows that Kurt is not his to want. Not his to have, or hold, or even pine over.

There's something in Kurt's eyes, though; confusion, maybe, or even knowledge, like he _knows._

But he doesn't know, because he whispers quietly, "Sebastian's looking over here. Do you want me to disappear for awhile?"

Like Blaine actually _gives a shit about Sebastian_.

So he swallows and smiles and says, "Yeah, thanks."

Finn's not even looking at him; he's staring directly at Kurt's face, almost in awe, like he's had some type of awkward epiphany about the Slytherin beside him.

So Blaine turns around, fixes his hair, and unwillingly engages Sebastian in another less-than-innocent dance in the middle of the ballroom, all while wishing Kurt was the one holding onto him, kissing his neck, wanting him.

* * *

><p>Kurt tries to pretend like it doesn't matter.<p>

Like the kiss hadn't left him breathless, aching, infatuated.

He pretends like he it doesn't bother him when Blaine turns that lopsided smile toward Sebastian instead of toward him, like it doesn't matter that Sebastian's _literally all over Blaine_.

He takes Finn's hand carefully in his own and drags him outside, to the garden, where they sit in the swings and talk for a long time.

They talk about school, and family, and love and hurt, and Kurt ends up falling asleep on Finn's chest as they try to locate the Little Dipper.

At least, he muses as his eyes start to droop, Finn manages to keep his mind of the person he'd really like to be talking to, falling asleep with, the one he'd like to be holding.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially ARandomFan91, who made me smile a lot. I would appreciate the whoring-out of this fan fic. :D<em>**

**_I appreciate every single one of those reviews; they seriously make my day. You guys are wonderful. Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS! _**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	11. Chapter 11

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>He wakes up in Blaine's bed. He's still in his skinny jeans, so he figures that Finn must have woken up and carried him upstairs after they'd fallen asleep together. He smiles a little at the gesture of kindness and it makes the ache in the center of his chest lessen, just a bit.<p>

Blaine himself, however, is nowhere to be found. Kurt even pats the comforter a little to make sure he wasn't snuggled beneath the few layers of linen. So the Slytherin takes a quick shower and heads downstairs.

The Anderson house looks clean and crisp, as though a party had not been hosted the night before, and Kurt shakes his head a little in amazement of the wonderfulness of Mrs. Anderson. He tip-toes over through the ballroom, dining area, den, and –

"_Ugh_."

Kurt halts jerkily in the doorway, and glances back over his shoulder.

Blaine's curly head is peeking up over the couch, one hazel eye crunched at the light streaming through the den window, and he gives a feeble wave.

"Are you okay?" The Slytherin takes careful steps back around the couch, and catches the shorter boy fishing for his shirt that hung on one of the arms. More specifically, he catches the boy's tan chest, the rippling muscles there, and the flex of his arms as he pulls the tee shirt over his head.

"Fine. I guess I crashed on the couch." He sits up and pats the cushion next to him, but Kurt forces himself to perch on the leather armchair instead.

"Without your shirt?"

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "Rumor has it."

"Are you sure _Sebastian _didn't take it off for you?" He snips before he can stop himself. Blaine's eyebrows disappear into his curly hair, and his mouth his twisted upward into a smug type of smirk that makes Kurt want to punch him.

Or kiss him.

"Are you jealous, Kurt Hummel?"

"Absolutely not."

"Are you su-?"

"What would I be jealous of, Bilbo Baggins?"

"Well, how rude!"

"I'm just stating the facts here."

"That fact that you're jealous. Look at you, with your red cheeks. You're blushing, Kurt."

"I am _not jealo—"_

"Boys?" Mrs. Anderson's pretty face appears in the doorway, and Kurt's mouth snaps shut. Blaine's not even trying to hide his chortling; the older Anderson just shakes her head and announces that breakfast would be served in the dining area.

Kurt makes sure to kick Blaine in the shin as he passes him.

* * *

><p>"So, how was your night with Finn the Dim?"<p>

Kurt looks up from the parchment that he was currently scribbling a letter to his father on. "What are you talking about?"

Blaine drops onto the bed beside him with a little sigh of content and stretches his arms, muscles flexing under the sleeves of his tee shirt. "I saw you star gazing or whatever."

Against his will, Kurt's cheeks burn red. He pretends not to hear him and starts to write again, but Blaine's so close, with his huge doe eyes and his chin propped up on one hand, that's it's nearly impossible once he starts nudging Kurt with his elbow.

"We were _talking_."

"Obviously. You still had your clothes on when he carried you inside."

"Anderson –"

"So? Did he have a big, gay epiphany and asked for your hand in Civil Union?" There's something in his tone, something cynical and sarcastic and _resentful,_ that makes Kurt arch his eyebrows and throw down his quill and look the Gryffindor straight in his damn beautiful hazel eyes.

"Yes, Blaine. Finn and I have decided that we are perfect for each other and, after several hours of discussion, are going to elope to the hills of Southern France and live like muggles in a huge castle with a million house elves to fulfill our every need or want. Happy?"

He scrunches up his nose in distaste, but he refrains from commenting. Kurt tries not to notice when he rolls over, back pressed into the mattress, and starts drawing patterns into his own chest. The Slytherin can feel the warmth from his body, the shift of his muscles as they move, and, once or twice, he catches the boy hum in content.

There's a few minutes of silence that Kurt can barely bare, because Blaine's _right there_ and all he had to do was lean over and they would be –

"I think he likes you."

Kurt swallows and tears his eyes away from Blaine's lips as he looks up. "You say that a lot."

"I've said it _twice_." He reaches over and walks his fingers carefully up Kurt's spine, a tiny grin lighting his face when the Slytherin shivers a little beneath them. "But I think it's true."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." His fingers, and the warmth from them, disappear. Kurt tries not to feel disappointed.

"Why'd you kiss me? Last night?"

Blaine just stares at him, eyes traveling over his face, and for a few beats, they lose themselves in each other.

Not that either of them knew.

"I don't know." Kurt feels his heart jump into his throat. Blaine's not looking at him anymore; he's staring at the ceiling instead. "I just…It felt like the right thing to do."

As they fall asleep that night, though, and Blaine's senses are full of _Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, _of coconut and expensive shampoo and the smell of his skin.

When he wakes up, his tee shirt smells a little less like him, and a little more like the Slytherin.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Anderson gives them both a huge, bone-crushing hugs at King's Cross. Kurt melts into it, holding her tight, and is reluctant to let go. He wants to angry, almost, because the Anderson's were far too lovable for their own good. He can't muster up enough energy to be anything but grateful and happy, so he blushes when she kisses him on the forehead and tells him that <em>you're the best thing for my son, I'm so glad you found each other<em>.

When they climb on the train and Kurt catches a glimpse of Mrs. Anderson waving from the platform, he has to rub at his eyes to keep a few tears from spilling over his cheeks. Blaine notices, though, and he rubs light circles into Kurt's back as though he understood.

"Thank you, Kurt," He says as they collapse in seats across from each other. "You definitely made my mother's holiday."

"It was the least I could do." The Slytherin folds his hands in his lap and is careful to avoid Blaine's earnest eyes as they burn into the side of his face.

"Well, I still –"

But the door is opening, and the sickeningly handsome profile of Sebastian Smyth is poking into their compartment without as much as a knock. Kurt rolls his eyes at the passing scenery and pretends not to notice when Blaine's back straightens and he runs a hand through his hair.

"Blaine Anderson. Just the guy I was looking for. And…Kurt."

"Smyth." He snips, not looking away from the window. Blaine aims a careful kick at his ankle; it comes in contact, but he ignores it.

Sebastian doesn't seem put off by the cold treatment he was getting. Instead, his meerkat face was pulled into a smug, instigating smile. "I was just wondering if I could have an audience with Blaine for a few minutes. It won't take long."

"Actually, I –"Blaine starts, clearing his throat weakly.

"No, really. Go ahead, baby." He tells himself later that it was just Sebastian's irritating smile and nauseatingly arrogant personality that makes him lean forehead, snag Blaine's collar, and kiss him with a vengeance that made Sebastian's smile go sour.

And when Blaine physically has to push him back, Kurt only cocks an eyebrow in Sebastian's direction.

And when the Gryffindor stands up to leave the compartment and Kurt gives him a terse tap on the ass, he winks at the Slytherin that was now scowling.

When they're gone, though, Kurt feels like a total mess.

And if someone asked him if he counted the minutes that Blaine was gone, he'd deny it.

But he did.

Blaine, however, looks positively carefree when he finally (fifteen minutes later, by Kurt's count) steps back into the compartment, sliding the door closed behind him. He slips back into his seat and gives Kurt a self-satisfied little grin.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"My ass still kind of hurts where you _slapped it._" Kurt's neck flushes red. "What was that about? I'm guessing you're still going to deny jealousy, right?"

"I'm not—Is that a hickey?"

His eyes are drawn to wear he'd grabbed Blaine's collar in order to kiss him, where his shirt had fallen open, and where his jugular pulsed, the relatively small, fading bruise was sucked into the skin there. Blaine reaches up to touch it and, after a moment of consideration, sighs. "Yes."

"_Sebastian gave you a hickey?_" His voice was rising at an unhealthy rate; Blaine's eyebrows arch into his hair.

"No, Kurt. _You_ gave me a hickey."

"That was months ago!"

Blaine twists his mouth and wipes his palms on the front of his jeans, obviously trying to think of the right words. "Actually, this was rather recent."

"What are you _talking _about?"

"Remember the Fire Whiskey night?"

"Yes, of course I—Oh, no. No, no, no –"

"You seriously don't remember anything?" He looks disappointed. Sad and hurt, as though Kurt had missed out on something crucial and beautiful and from the emotions in his eyes, he guesses he must have.

"Apparently not! I don't remember giving you…_that._" He gestures awkwardly at Blaine's collar.

The Gryffindor sits back, upset, and snaps, "Don't worry, I shoved you away as soon as possible."

"Why are you getting angry with me?" Kurt asks, exasperated. "It's not my fault that I –"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Can we just not talk about it?"

That hurts. Kurt lets his mouth fall shut and turns his eyes back to the scenery that raced by as the train moved. He tries very hard to remember what happened that night, how he acted, what was said, and eventually he starts getting back tiny snippets of their drunken conversation. None of them, not one tiny detail, seemed important at all, and he began to wonder if he'd purposefully blocked out the one thing he absolutely _needed _to remember.

* * *

><p>Finn finds him the second that he steps off the train. He could probably find Kurt from a mile away, with those mile long legs and bright, attention-demanding eyes. He feels something twist in his stomach, though, when he sees Blaine steps down beside him and takes his hand. To anyone who wasn't looking close, anyone who wasn't purposefully searching for a flaw would immediately think they were happy.<p>

Finn's not that dumb, though; neither one of them look very pleased to be near each other.

Kurt especially. Kurt looks like all he wants to do is tear his hand out of Blaine's and run away.

And Finn finds himself wanting to help him do it.

* * *

><p>"Kurt."<p>

He feels Blaine's fingers lessen in his, so he holds on tighter. "Finn! How was the rest of your holiday?"

"Fine." The Frankenteen shuffles his feet awkwardly and then finds the right pace as they start their trek up to the castle. "I missed you."

When Blaine's head shoots up and he gives Finn a long, searching glance, the other Gryffindor rushes to add, "Both of you. I mean, I barely saw you at the New Year's Party, Blaine. You spent most of your time dancing with Sebastian, didn't you?"

Kurt bites the inside of his cheek. He's not sure if Finn's purposefully being malicious or if he's asking an honest question; but the clench in Blaine's jaw and the tightening on Kurt's fingers, he confirms the former. There's an icy stillness as Blaine fails to answer his inquiry and Finn's lips curve upward into an almost cruel grin.

Unable to bear the silence, Kurt clears his throat. "Did you get anything good for Christmas, Finn? A new broom, maybe?"

"Inspiration."

"Was that before or after you went star gazing with my boyfriend?"

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin turn to stare at Blaine as he gave the frozen ground an unprovoked death glare. The grip he had on Kurt's hand was slowly turning the tips of his fingers red. Finn's footsteps had slowed in response to Blaine's blistering reaction, so he was a few paces behind them when he answered quietly, "After."

"You know what?" The shorter boy releases Kurt's hand with the fling of his wrist. "I'll just leave you two alone."

Kurt opens his mouth to protest, but Finn grabs his arm and whispers, "You should let him cool off."

So they slow their pace and Blaine quickens his, and in a few minutes, he's far ahead. Kurt presses his lips into a thin line and hugs himself tightly, trying to block out the frostiness that starts to seep into his chest and, somehow, has nothing to do with the weather.

"I'm guessing things aren't going very—"

"You always assume we're having problems."

Finn looks almost like he's going to backtrack, but he glances down and sees the smile starting on Kurt's lips. After a beat, he smiles back. "You guys just never seem very…happy."

The smile's gone now, replaced by a jerky, knowing nod and, "It got complicated, somewhere down the line."

"Look, Kurt." The Frankenteen moves to face him, stopping the Slytherin in his tracts, and plants both hands on his shoulders. "You deserve happiness, you know? You deserve something pure and awesome and fun. Blaine…he's complicated. He's just…he doesn't know how to be happy sometimes. I…I know how to be happy. I know how to make _you _happy. I _want _to make you happy, if you'd only give me a –"

"Finn."

"Yeah?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"I…I like you. I like you a lot, Kurt."

Kurt hugs himself tighter now, his heart plummeting to his knees, and he tries to catch his breath.

Finn's dopey brown eyes are hopeful, vulnerable, scared.

He realizes, in that moment, that he succeeded in getting what he had wanted. He'd succeeded in manipulating Finn into wanting him, and it wasn't nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be. He guesses, maybe, it's because he doesn't _want _Finn anymore.

He doesn't want this. He doesn't want Finn. He wants Blaine, and only Blaine.

But Blaine doesn't want him.

"Just give me a chance, Kurt. One chance."

* * *

><p>Blaine's in the library when Kurt finds him again.<p>

"Blaine."

His doe eyes flash up, and they make Kurt's heart hurt. He gives a little smile, an apologetic one, and says, "Hey, Kurt. I wanted to talk to you."

"That's good, because I want to talk to you, too." He feels like there are a ton of bricks in the bottom on his stomach, weighing him down. Blaine's smile twitches upward and he gestures to the empty seat beside him. Kurt sighs and rests his head in his palm, emotionally exhausted. "You go first."

Blaine reaches over and takes his free hand, holding it lightly in his tan one, and looks carefully into the conflicted spheres of color that were Kurt's eyes. "I just wanted to apologize for being so stupid this morning, with Finn."

"It's fine."

"I was such a dick."

"It's okay."

He smiles again and gently releases Kurt's hand. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"We did it." It's shaky and weak and Blaine doesn't understand, because his curly head is cocked to the side, hazel eyes searching Kurt's face. "Finn asked me out."

The smile disappears, as does the searching look. Blaine swallows thickly. "He…?"

"I said yes," Kurt blurts out, spine rigid. The Gryffindor's jaw clenches and unclenches, and a smile appears through a haze of confused emotions.

"That's awesome. We did it. That's great. Cool," He says, shoving books into his messenger bag and standing up. He moves toward the double doors without so much as a backward glance, but Kurt's intuition tells him to follow. When he does, his movements are jerky and callous.

"Blaine—"

"Look, I don't really care all that much."

"Are you -?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" He hears Kurt scoff and it makes him look back. The countertenor's feet are planted, strong, into the carpet of the long hallway and his arms are crossed over his chest. Offended and livid. "What?"

"You _do _care. You care about me, Blaine Anderson. We're friends, whether you like it or not! So we _will _talk about it, because it's important to _me _and I don't care whether or not you _want _to talk about –"

"What does he have that I don't?" He can feel the shake in his voice as he snarls it. Kurt stops yelling instantly.

There's a frozen moment, a stand-still, and neither Kurt nor Blaine seem to breathe at all. Kurt's gaping at him like a fish, lips parted, unable to find anything to say. The Gryffindor's heart his ramming against his chest and it feels like it might explode.

"You're being silly." Kurt's voice still has that power in it, that strength. Blaine starts to shake his head. "No, really, Blaine. You're just worked up because we've been fighting and I under—"

"You don't understand!" Blaine roars over him, holding out his hands as though to grasp at thing air. "You're not even listening to –"

"Stop talking! You have no idea—"

"—I do have an idea! I know exactly what I'm trying to—"

"You're the one who invited Finn to that stupid New Year's party, Blaine! You're the one who kept insisting that he liked me, that we were perfect for each other, that everything was going to work out just _peachy _and I would have everything that I wanted!" Kurt's voice has reached an octave that even he hadn't known he could reach; Blaine's staring at him with wide eyes. "You're the one who danced with Sebastian all night!"

Blaine shakes his head. "I never invited Finn. My mother did. But it doesn't really matter, Kurt, because _that's what the plan was. _Still is, as far as I know! You're in love with him, Kurt! That's what you keep—"

"No."

It's quiet, but forceful. The indignant words on Blaine's tongue dry up and disappear. He doesn't know exactly what Kurt means at all, but there's still hope flickering, like a match light somewhere inside him, and he just can't seem to let it die. He can't find any words at all, because in that moment, there were none.

So he hugs himself, arms tight around his chest, and lifts one shoulder in a type of hopeless surrender.

"I don't know how to be like him, Kurt. I can't be like him._ I'm only me_."

Kurt looks completely dejected. Completely worn out, emotionally drained, delicate and vulnerable. He takes a few steps forward, hesitantly, and reaches out a hand. It touches the edge of Blaine's face, his fingertips brushing the surface of the Gryffindor's skin, and a smile suddenly appears through the haze of mixed, chaotic emotions in his eyes.

"I—"

"Kurt!"

The second they look away from each other, the second their eyes leave each other's faces, the moment is gone. Kurt's arm falls to his side, and only the ghost of a smile still lingers on his face. Finn's awkward lope comes to a slow as he approaches them.

"Sorry, was I-?"

"No." Blaine reaches up to run a hand through his hair. "I was just leaving."

And he does.

He turns around and walks away, his steps echoing hard in Kurt's ears.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Special thanks to everyone who reviewed this past update. I got a bunch.<em>**

**_I appreciate every single one of those reviews; they seriously make my day. You guys are wonderful. Also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!_**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	12. Chapter 12

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>He doesn't like the way Blaine never seems to <em>see <em>him. How his hazel eyes seem to glance right through him, how they passed over him as though he was invisible. Even when Kurt manages to catch him in a corridor, or at breakfast, or on the way to a lavatory, he finds some way to wiggle out of the Slytherin's grasp and avoid all possible eye contact. He realizes very soon that he misses Blaine in a way that he'd never missed anyone before; it's like he'd practically do anything – give anything – to arguing with the incorrigible boy again.

Kurt feels awful. He feels like there's a troll perpetually sitting on his chest as he moves around the castle, a hurt that he can't repair even with Finn constantly beside him. He had decided, when Blaine walked away, that Finn deserved a chance. Kurt wasn't about to throw away all his hard work - _their _hard work - for Blaine's confusing monologue of feelings that somehow hadn't made any sense at all.

Because Blaine had made it _very clear that he didn't want Kurt in any way, _platonic or not. So the harboring of a self-destructive crush on a boy that didn't really want anything to do with him was increasingly useless.

Right?

He shakes his head as he passes an empty classroom that, after the soft, tinkling sounds of keys being pushed reaches his ear, doesn't seem very empty at all. When he backtracks and peers inside, there's a familiar curly head sitting carefully on the edge of a piano bench, fingers dancing over the keys.

He doesn't hear Kurt walk in.

"Are you avoiding me?"

Blaine jumps a little, but he doesn't look around. His fingers slow on the keys and he's mentally chanting _he's not there, he's not there, he's not_ –

"Blaine?" His name had never sounded so good on anyone else's lips, but he finds himself wishing that Kurt would never say it again. It hurts. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Of course not."

"I haven't seen you or talked to you or argued with you for a few –"

"I've been busy," He says roughly, fingers plunking roughly at the keys in front of him. Kurt swallows thickly.

"I just thought—"

"You thought wrong."

"Blaine, I just…I'm trying really hard to—"

"I have to go."

"Where?" The demand in his voice was brutal, even to himself. Blaine's eyebrow twitches upward, but he doesn't stop moving toward the door.

"Somewhere that you aren't. Okay?"

And that somehow hurts worse than anything else he could have thought up. It makes Kurt's chest freeze, his heart clench, and he can't find any words to shoot at Blaine's retreating back.

Without thinking about it, and without considering any consequences, Kurt shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out his want without finesse, pointing the tip directly at the back of Blaine's curly head.

"_Impedimenta!"_

He doesn't stay to watch Blaine trip over his own feet, to watch the Gryffindor land on his nose, or listen to the horrible crunch as it brakes. He just turns around and walks away.

Almost exactly like Blaine did.

* * *

><p>"Anderson?"<p>

He stops trying to lean his head back and meets the big green eyes of Sam Evans. He tries to murmur a hello, but the blood seeping out of his nose is alarming. The blonde pulls out his wand and mutters something under his breath; Blaine's nose snaps back into place with a sickening crack.

"You know, that's the second time that idiot has broken my nose," He manages through a mouthful of blood; Sam grimaces when he leans out a window to spit the liquid away. He doesn't ask any questions, though. He just pats Blaine gingerly on the back and waves his wand again, scraping off the blood left on the other Gryffindor's face.

"Maybe you should learn to dodge a little better, Anderson." He smiles, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes. Blaine rubs a hand over his face and gives a shrug, trying not to feel entirely uncomfortable at the calculatingly look in those green eyes.

"Maybe."

"I heard that things have been rough for you two."

Blaine sighs and rubs furiously at his eyes, exhaustion seeping into his skin. "Where did you hear that, exactly?"

"Around." Sam leans against the wall, calculating gaze replaced with sympathy. "Did you break his heart?"

"Sort of the opposite." It's blurted and he doesn't think about it, but he guesses it's incredibly true. Without knowing, or perhaps knowingly, Kurt had taken his heart, thrown it to the floor, and let Finn help trample on it. He knows he should be angry, especially since the Slytherin had just broken his nose for the second time, but he can't find it anywhere within him to muster up the energy to hate him.

He guesses that came with loving someone.

"So he dumped you, then?"

"If people ask."

Sam nods and claps him on the shoulder again, softer this time and with more commiseration. It doesn't make Blaine feel any better, or give him any hope, but somehow it makes him feel less alone.

"You should take a shower."

"Nah, man. I'm going flying."

"It's storming."

"Do I look like someone who cares about a little rain?"

"You look like someone who could use a shower. And some sleep. And a good shag."

"…Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"I won't."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kurt!" A hand pushes into his, holding it tight.<p>

He pulls away, retracting his fingers and tucking his hand carefully back into his pocket before anyone notices. "_What_, Finn?"

A dopey expression of hurt and confusion flashes across his face; Kurt quickens his pace, but the Frankteen's long gorilla legs seem to take one step for every five of Kurt's. "Is this a bad time?"

"I'm going to potions."

"I thought you had a free period."

Kurt sighs and scratches a tired hand across his forehead. "What is it?"

"I thought…I mean, I was hoping that maybe you'd want to come get coffee with me at Hogsmeade. Unless it's too soon." He seems to read something in the Slytherin's features that makes him uncomfortable. "I know things with Blaine didn't go very—"

"What?"

Finn lifts a shoulder. "He was telling the Gryffindors that you dumped him. He said you just weren't happy with him anymore."

Kurt gulps heavily. "Oh."

Finn gives him a sharp pat on the shoulder that knocks his balance off; he has to put a hand out to grasp the wall to keep from falling. Someone takes his shoulder, steadying him further, and he glances up to see Sam with a frown on his lips.

"Hi."

The blonde hugs him, but it's quick, and Kurt can see that there's some type of objective to this meeting. "I need your help with something."

"What's wrong?" Finn asks over Kurt's immediate consent; Sam sends him a sharp look that closes his mouth.

Turning to Kurt, the blonde starts, "Blaine's been on his broom for four hours. I can't get him down, and neither can Santana, and you know how threatening she can be."

"What's wrong with being on a broom for four hours? It's f—"

But a crack of thunder and the flash of lightening cut him off; Sam lifts an eyebrow and doesn't bother to answer.

Kurt shuffles uncomfortable under his insistent stare. "I'm probably the last person Blaine wants to see right now. I just…I broke his nose a few hours ago and he probably –"

"Trust me, Kurt, you're the first person he wants to see, and you broke more than just his nose."

The slight pleading look in Sam's face was too persuasive – at least, that's what he ends up telling himself as he drags his sorry backside into the howling wind and rain of the Quidditch pitch.

He spots Blaine flying high; he's not even chasing a snitch. He's just dipping and diving with the wind. Even from far away, Kurt can tell he's already soaked. There's another flash of lightening and Kurt covers his head like it could help somehow; he panics for a moment when Blaine's broom disappears beneath the sheets and sheets of rain.

Over the roaring storm, he shouts, "Hey, idiot!"

Blaine's broom wavers as he loses concentration; Kurt's heard falls into his stomach.

"Get _down _here!"

If something happened to him…

Blaine's broom zooms overhead.

Kurt breaks into a run.

"Stop right n_ - Ow! Fuck!" _His foot catches in the muck and sends him tumbling into the saturated earth; there's a sharp pain in his elbow as he lands and the dry charm he'd cast on himself breaks. In seconds, he's drenched and lying in the mud.

He wants to cry.

Instead, though, he hears a resounding thump and strong arms grasp him around the waist. He's pulled up from the earth and planted shakily back on his feet. Once he's standing, however, he feels the tremors vibrate against him from the body holding him. Twisting in Blaine's arms, he feels his icy skin with shaking fingers.

"Jesus, Anderson, what are you _thinking_?"

"Y-you b-broke m-me."

"Locker room. Now."

The first thing Kurt does is turn one of the showers to the hottest temperature it can reach.

The second was ripping Blaine's tee shirt over his head and tossing it to the side.

"T-trying to s-strip me, H-hummel?" Even his grin is shaky. Kurt hushes him and ceremoniously shoves him under the hot water.

Which, of course, the Gryffindor flinches away from. "W-way t-too h-hot."

"Did you know that you could go into shock because you –"

"J-just s-shut u-up. I'm f-fine."

"You know what?" Kurt doesn't hesitate; the thought of losing Blaine, or Blaine even being sick, or hurt, makes him suddenly fearless. He strips off his own shirt and wraps his arms tightly around Blaine, pressing their bodies together and effectively sharing his body heat. Blaine trembles against him, but he rests his chin in the crook of Kurt's neck and grasps the Slytherin just as firmly as he was clutching the Gryffindor.

"You're insane." Kurt whispers to him, resting his cheek on top of Blaine's curly head as the shorter boy shivered. "And so stubborn. All the time. Don't you ever give it a rest?"

Inch by inch, Kurt shuffles them toward the shower, until Blaine's bare back and shoulders are submerged in the spray. Then, their heads. Kurt welcomes the added warmth with a sigh; Blaine's fingers start to trace circles in the sip of his lower back, rough fingertips smoothing over Kurt's flawless skin.

And slowly, very slowly, he stops shivering.

There's a point when Kurt knows he should let go and step away, but he can't bring himself to do so.

"Why'd you come find me?" Kurt feels Blaine's lips move against his jugular; he tightens his grip on the boy.

"Sam told me you were out there." He swallows. "He told me some other stuff too."

"Did he?"

"He told me that I broke something other than your nose."

There's silence, and Kurt can feel Blaine's heart beating.

It's beating fast.

"Sam doesn't really know what's he's talking about."

"Really?"

Blaine lifts his head, retracts his arms, moves away. Kurt feels immediately empty, alone, distraught. The Gryffindor crosses his arms and mumbles, "I've already told you how I feel, Kurt. I don't know what you expect me to—"

"When was this?"

"What?"

"When did you tell me how-?"

"_Really_?"

"I don't—"

"I love you." They're plunged into silence. Blaine's staring so intensely into his eyes that Kurt has to look away. "I love you more than I've ever loved anything. That's clique and corny, but it's true, Kurt. You're like fucking sunshine and you make me smile and I can't help but _want you_. I want every part of you, Kurt. Every cynical, egotistical, irritating, perfect, beautiful part of you, and I don't know what to do about it. Because you don't love me back, and it hurts. It hurts so badly, Kurt, all the time. It hurt when you finally got what you've wanted for so long, but I can't ever bring myself to hate you, because I want you to be _so _happy. So you can just pretend this didn't happen, that I'm not saying this, and be happy with Finn and have cute, incredibly tall babies and –"

But Kurt plunges forward just then, capturing his lips and the last bit of willpower Blaine had been saving for his dramatic exit. It's coarse, deprived, and exhilarating. Like they would never see each other again, like they only had _this moment_. Blaine's hands are everywhere; tracing his jaw, pushing through his perfect hair, digging into the small of his back. Their lips met with a fanatical need, both seeking something that they couldn't find anywhere else, no matter how hard they tried, or how well they pretended. Blaine's fingers slip into Kurt's back pockets, dragging his pelvis closer, sinking harder into him. The soprano moans into his mouth, like Blaine's the one thing he needs to be whole again, to be happy. His tongue sweeps out, licking a line across Blaine's pouty bottom lip, and between gasps and friction and desperation, he murmurs, "I love you, too. For so long."

And in that moment, Blaine felt inexpressibly, irreplaceably, indescribably happy.

* * *

><p><strong><em>:) At last.<em>**

**_Leave me a review! I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	13. Chapter 13

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>Kurt kisses the back of Blaine's neck.<p>

His shoulder.

His bicep.

The inside of his elbow.

His wrist.

His knuckles.

"You're supposed to be helping me with my shirt, not distracting me," the Gryffindor says starkly as he feels Kurt's lips start to retrace their path. There's a huge grin on his face, one that reaches his hazel eyes, and it makes Kurt smile back. He nips softly at the tip of Blaine's ear and then, fulfilling his promise, pulls the boy's tee shirt back over his head. "Thank you."

"Mhm." He kisses Blaine's smiling lips, immediately loving the way the smirk tasted. He sighs, breathing in the smell of Blaine's skin as the boy's fingers lace into his hair, and whispers, "Why weren't we doing this before?"

"Because," His breath ghosts over Kurt's parted lips, "you're an idiot, Kurt Hummel."

"If this is what I've been missing, then yes. I am an idiot." Blaine presses an innocent kiss to the corner of his mouth and takes his hand, their fingers entwining in a way that Kurt would never get enough of. He stares down at their contrasting skin tones and can't help himself; he pulls Blaine's hand to his mouth and kisses his palm. "I really do love you."

Blaine laughs. "I know."

"Want me to tell you why?"

"Yes."

"Too bad."

"You're a jerk."

"But you love me."

"That's true." He stands, glances once around the locker room, and then collects Kurt in his arms in one sweeping moment that makes the Slytherin's heart beat fast. And for a moment, they just hold each other, Kurt's arms laced loosely around Blaine's neck.

And then, "What am I going to tell Finn?"

Blaine leans back, just a little, so he can see into Kurt's face. There's pity there for the Frankenteen, for the mixture of feelings and signals and everything, so he lifts a shoulder and offers, "I could talk to him, if you want."

"No." He doesn't even seem to consider it; he lets go of Blaine and sits back down on the cool metal bench, fingers rubbing into his temple in a soothing way. The Gryffindor leans against a locker. "I owe him an explanation, from me. Not from anyone else."

Blaine folds his arms across his chest and nods jerkily. "So…are you going to tell him the whole thing or just the parts that he needs to know?"

"I don't know." Kurt stands and pulls Blaine's arms away from his chest in order slide into them instead. "I'll work it out."

"Just don't work it out while giving yourself a work out on Finn's giant d—"

"Blaine!"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Nope. I'm not."

* * *

><p>They decide that it would probably be best to carry on like nothing happened, since everyone already thought they were together. But they find themselves doing things differently than before; Blaine takes Kurt's hand the second they see each other, Kurt kisses Blaine's forehead just because. They started studying together, walking together, sharing kisses in the corridors like no one was there.<p>

And all in the first day that they were legitimately together.

Blaine can't help but reach out and pull Kurt closer to him, or kiss his cheek when he wasn't paying attention, because sometimes he can't believe that it's actually happening.

That Kurt is actually his to have, and to hold, and share things with.

And almost immediately after clarifying that _yes, this is real_, he finds himself panicking.

They're in the back row of the library, Kurt's legs wrapped around Blaine's waist, pretending to study while really making out, when he manages between kisses, "Have you ever done this before?"

Kurt leans away, clear glasz eyes searching his face. "Yes, I've been kissed before, Blaine."

"No, I mean…the whole relationship thing. Have you done it before?" Kurt lifts one shoulder; Blaine presses his lips into it. "I just…All my relationships were based around more of the _physical _aspect of things."

He runs his fingers over the outside of Kurt's thighs. "I just don't want to mess this up with you."

"I've never loved anyone before," Kurt says after a beat, pressing his forehead against the Gryffindor's. "I have complete faith in you…In us, even though that sounds completely corny. I think this will work."

"I love—"

"Um."

They both jump away from each other, almost on instinct, and Kurt bites his lip when he finds Finn staring at them with two raised eyebrows. Blaine clears his throat, buttons his shirt back up, and says casually, "So…I have a loooot of homework to do. Like so much. So I'm just going to go…do it."

"You do that, Blaine."

He shoots Kurt a death glare that the Slytherin can only smile at. "I will."

"Okay. Bye."

"Meet me at Gryffindor Tower later?"

"_Bye, Blaine._" The shorter boy blows a kiss that Finn misses because he's staring at his shoes, and disappears into the many shelves of the library. Kurt shuffles awkwardly and clears his throat. "I owe you an explanation, Finn."

"I think I get it, actually."

"I severely doubt that." He blows a raspberry; it makes Finn smile, but it's a confused, waiting smile. He takes a deep breath and drops into a chair, patting the seat beside him. "Sit."

"Okay…"

"So." He folds his hands uncomfortably in front of him. Finn's looking at him with a mixed expression of caution and uncertainty, so he clears his throat and starts. "So, when I started dating Blaine…I wasn't really dating Blaine. I was pretending to date Blaine in order to make you jealous."

Finn shifts in his seat a little and rests his chin in his hand, like he knows that it's going to take awhile for Kurt to explain himself.

"Because I really liked you, Finn. I did. And I hated Blaine _so much_, but he was close to you and I didn't really have any other options. So I…I blackmailed him into dating me and eventually…It got a lot easier to pretend we were together, because I _wanted _to be with him. I couldn't hate him anymore, and I couldn't pretend anymore. He didn't love me back, so why try? And then you gave me that adorable proposition, and I wanted to be happy. And I don't doubt it, Finn, you could probably make anyone happy."

He's blushing now, the tips of his ears red, and it makes Kurt smile.

"But I found out that Blaine's been feeling the same way, and I couldn't give up the chance to be happy with him. Do you understand?"

Finn grins, the red in his cheeks and ears fading, and he reaches over to clap Kurt on the shoulder. "Totally, dude. I _knew _you guys were meant to be."

"Thank you." He feels a weight from his chest disappear, and he can't help the relieved sigh pass through his lips. "I'm sorry, about everything."

Finn sits back and shrugs. "It's actually kind of flattering, when you think about it."

"If you find psychotic gay boys trying to make you crazy jealous and steal you from that hobbit, Rachel Berry, flattering then…yeah, I guess it is."

* * *

><p>Kurt's eyes are closed, but Blaine knows that he's still awake. The fan of his eyelashes nearly reaches his cheek. He's possibly the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen. He smoothes a few fingers over the Slytherin's skin, and he feels a smile form under his hand.<p>

They're lying in Blaine's bed, just being still, and Blaine thinks it's probably the best thing in the world. Kurt's legs are wrapped in his and he'd scooted down the bed in order to rest his head on the broad expanse of Blaine's unfortunately still-clothed chest. There's something in just _holding _Kurt, feeling his weight against him that makes Blaine unspeakably content.

He runs a hand down the taller boy's back and kisses the top of his perfectly coiffed head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt moves his head, brushing his cheek across Blaine's chest, and sighs. "It was fine."

"Really?"

"He said it was _flattering_."

Blaine considers this and, arching his neck a little to see that Kurt's eyes are still closed, holds the Slytherin a little tighter. "It kind of is."

"He seemed a little disappointed," Kurt murmurs, drawing circles around Blaine's bellybutton.

"Well…he wants you now. He could have had you then, when he didn't want you, but now he can't have you at all, because you don't want him. I'd assume that's pretty disappointing." The boy in his arms doesn't say anything, but Blaine figures it's just because there's nothing left to say.

Kurt leans up and kisses the point of Blaine's chin, conveying a silent thank you and whispering contently, "I love you."

Blaine fingers down the notches in his spine and thinks of the last time he had been _this _happy.

He can't remember any time at all.

"I'm really happy."

"Hmm?" Kurt nuzzles his face upward, tucking it into the corner of Blaine's neck, kissing the skin there.

"I've never been this happy."

There's a cynical snort and Kurt's glasz eyes appear in front of his nose. "Don't be silly."

"No, really." He sits up, dragging Kurt with him, and smoothes his hands down the Slytherin's sides like he'd never be able to hold him again. "I didn't think I'd ever…I mean, I've tried to find _this _with a lot of people and never…It's just never worked out for me and I just…I can't believe you're real."

The words are rushed and mumbled and Blaine's tongue trips over them so badly that it's a miracle that Kurt can understand him at all. But he does, and he smiles, and it makes Blaine's heart skip a beat. He guesses he could just lay there with Kurt for the rest of the afternoon, holding him close and breathing him in, but he realizes that it just isn't enough. He suddenly has the incessant need to _prove _how much he loved the Slytherin curled into his chest. Kurt suddenly absolutely needed to know how much Blaine needed _him_, needed to be close to him, needed to love him.

So he drags Kurt into his lap and pulls Kurt soundly to his lips and, after a few searing moments of hot, needy kisses, flips them around with admirably fast Quidditch reflexes, settling his pelvis between Kurt's legs as they wrapped around him. He uses both arms to steady himself, fingers clenching and unclenching the sheets as Kurt responds to his kisses furiously, tongue dipping carelessly passed Blaine's lips like it belonged inside his mouth, tasting and nipping at every moment.

"You're beautiful." It's gasped into his mouth, but Blaine hears it well enough. He pulls back, just a little, to look down into Kurt's eyes and he can't keep the idiot grin from creeping onto his face.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

Kurt rolls his eyes and tries to squirm closer, tries to drag Blaine's lips back down to his. "I think you need to kiss me. Now."

So he does and it's lightening.

He drags a hand down Kurt's side and slides his fingers under the taller boy's shirt, palm smoothing over his alabaster skin. And, without any warning except for a muffled moan, drops his hips directly onto Kurt's.

There's a gasp and Blaine swallows it, Kurt's back arching off the bed as they rolled together.

Kurt's fingers dive under his shirt, clawing at the tan skin stretched across his back. Blaine doesn't bother to unbutton Kurt's shirt; he just rips it off, popping the buttons as he went, and he expects to be reprimanded later. Now, though, he doesn't care.

He maintains a rough rhythm that keeps Kurt gasping as he kisses every exposed patch of the taller boys chest that he could reach, licking and sucking at the porcelain flesh. He'll probably leave bruises.

There's a groan and a few cuss words and Blaine doesn't even know what's happening anymore because he's gasping out, "I love you so much."

They come together, with Kurt's teeth nipping _hard _at his neck, and Blaine's hands grasping at Kurt's hips, pulling him ever closer.

When Blaine opens his eyes and runs a hand through Kurt's hair, presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead, he can't help but grin like an idiot.

Because Kurt's his, they're in love, and no one could ever take that away from them.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Ahhh, guys! It's coming to an end soon. I can feel it. <em>**

**_I really appreciate all the faithful readers that have stuck with this for THIS long. I appreciate every single one of you._**

**_PLEASE REVIEW. :)_****_ I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	14. Chapter 14

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>Finn is beyond pissed.<p>

He's beyond rational reason, he's beyond cognitive thought process.

So he doesn't really know what he's doing, really, when he throws open the door of the nearly empty Transfiguration classroom and himself into a chair beside Sebastian Smyth. The Slytherin doesn't even look up from his parchment; he keeps writing and, with the air of someone so totally not interested in Finn's presence, drawls: "There's nothing you could say right now that could have any consequence to me. Go away."

"Look, it's about Kurt Hummel. I think I -"

"Oh, now I really want to help you. Seriously, you've struck a chord." The sarcasm in his voice stings; he slides his parchment into his bag and stands up. Finn, stumbling over his own feet, struggles to follow him as the Slytherin quickens his pace out of the classroom.

"It's about Blaine, too!" Sebastian's steps falter, his pace slowing, but he's still walking away. Finn plants his feet into the stone floor and tries one more time. "I'm trying to ruin his relationship."

Sebastian stops completely and executes a perfect pivot; he's in Finn's personal space before he even registers that the boy is walking back to him. "And why assume that I'd help you do that?"

"Because you're manipulative and sneaky and you've wanted into Blaine's pants since fourth year."

"True." He reaches up and brushes invisible lint off Finn's shoulder. "I never took you for a homewrecker, Finn Hudson. Kinda hot."

"I'm not!" He says quickly, taking a step back. "I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings."

"Yet, you want to destroy Klaine's relationship."

"Klaine?"

"It's easier than saying Kurt and Blaine. Stop trying to change the subject."

"I'm not!" He swallows and smoothes down the front of his robes, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I just…I don't think Kurt is right for Blaine. And vice versa. They're enemies! I know Blaine's going to hurt him, he always does with his relationships, and Kurt's such a nice guy and it's just not f—"

"Stop babbling." Sebastian gives him a sharp slap on the cheek that makes him blink furiously and step back again. "Fine. I'll help you. But is there any other reason, other than the one about Blaine hurting Kurt and blah blah blah, that you want to destroy their current happiness?"

Finn thinks back to the conversation in the library, to Kurt's lips pressed against Blaine's throat, to the fact that _he could have been happy_, and swallows. "He'll be happier with someone else."

* * *

><p>Kurt's blissful happiness lasts for about two peaceful days.<p>

And then Santana catches him on his way down to the Quidditch pitch.

"Hey, porcelain!"

"Santana?"

She matches his pace easily, and together they step toward the green and silver flag flying over the three hoops. "Not that it really matters and not that you care, I'm obligated as your captain to tell you that we've gained a new Seeker."

"What was wrong with Jackson?"

"He took a mysterious tumble onto the second floor window."

"Santana!"

"It wasn't me!" She lifts both her hands. "Anyway, we're having a double practice in order to work with him."

He hears the echo of his promise to Blaine, the one about meeting him in Gryffindor Tower before dinner, and presses his lips together. A double practice meant he wouldn't be back in the castle until midnight, at the earliest. "I'm guessing that it's mandatory?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"I was just hoping that I'd be able to spend time with B –"

"Stop talking. I just baby barfed."

He sighs and runs a hand through his perfect hair. "Fine. Who's the new guy?"

"Some kid that constantly makes me want to punch him. He's a damn good Seeker, though." She tilts her head a little and after a second, adds, "He has a funny meerkat face."

Kurt stops in his tracks. "Sebastian Smyth?"

"Probably. I wasn't listening when he announced himself." She keeps walking, but she sends a little glance over her shoulder to take in his paled expression. "What? Do you have some creepy gay crush on him or something?"

He shakes his head, snaps himself out of it, and hurries to catch up with her. "No, he's just…He's kind of promiscuous."

"So? Half the team screwed each other before the first game." She shrugs. "Plus, _I'm _your captain."

"I know, but –"

"Wait, does this have something to do with Blanderson?"

Kurt blushes red. "No!"

Santana takes his arm and drags him around to face her, brown eyes searching his face. "It does! It totally does. Did they fuck?"

"What? No!" The blush has creeped up his neck. "I don't think so, at least. They only went out once and it wasn't a big deal!"

She just stares at him with an oddly compassionate look on her face and then claps him on the shoulder, saying, "Stop looking so pathetic, Hummel. We'll keep an eye on him. Don't worry."

* * *

><p>Blaine's staring at the Common Room ceiling, releasing and re-catching the snitch he'd caught in third year. Every now and then, he'd glance down the watch on his wrist. One thirty, a.m. He sighs and lets the snitch fly a little too far. It zooms overhead, circling the room.<p>

"Blaine?" There's awkward shuffling and then someone sits down beside him on the red velvet couch. "Why're you up so late?"

He doesn't even have to look up to know it's Finn; the boy's dopey voice and the way he's rubbing his palms on the front of his jeans is enough. "I had a date with Kurt."

"In the Common Room?"

"Obviously."

There's a few seconds of silence and then, "He didn't show?"

And suddenly Blaine doesn't like the way Finn's being so pushy, so curious. "I'm sure he had a good reason."

"Maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blaine straightens now, eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest. Finn holds up his hands innocently, brown eyes locked carefully onto Blaine's rather livid face. He thinks that it's maybe the first time that Finn's ever looked at him with something other than lethargic friendliness. Now, though, there's considerable coldness between them. There's something bitter and destructive in his face that Blaine doesn't know how to respond to, except to say, "What's your issue?"

Finn drops his eyes and shrugs one passive shoulder. "No issue, dude."

"Really? Because you seem like you want to hit me," He says, catching the Snitch with one hand as it passes by his right ear.

"Look, Blaine. I've known Kurt longer than you, I know him better than you. When you were hexing him every day, I was the one that helped fix it." He swallows thickly and stands up, his tall figure hovering over Blaine. "I don't think you guys are going to last very long and, when you end up hurting him, I'll be here to help him fix it. Understand?"

Blaine opens his mouth to argue, to insist that he's wrong and they're going to last a long time and he loves Kurt more than anything, but his throat runs dry. He can't find the right words and Finn knows it, because he gives the smallest of lopsided sneers and turns to walk back up to the dormitories, leaving Blaine sitting alone in the Common Room, playing with his golden snitch.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Kinda short. : Sorry, guys._**

**_Again, you guys are wonderful. Oh, and I started something new! It's called Knight. It's on my profile; go check it out if you're into Anderberry Siblings stuff, or if you just like Drunk!Kurt. ;)_**

**_PLEASE REVIEW. :)_****_ I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


	15. Chapter 15

**In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.**

* * *

><p>Kurt spots Blaine almost instantaneously as he steps into the Great Hall. He makes a beeline for the curly head sitting slumped beside Sam and, after pressing a kiss just behind the boy's ear, squeezes in beside them.<p>

"You have _no idea _what I had to deal with yesterday! You know who joined the Quidditch team? Sebastian! Did you even know he could play? I d—What's wrong?"

Because Blaine isn't even looking at him. He's forking through his oatmeal with a sour expression on his face, usual bright eyes downcast. Sam's avoiding his eyes, too; when Blaine doesn't answer and Kurt glances up at him, the blonde just engages in an overly enthused conversation with another Gryffindor.

"Blaine." He drops his voice to a soft octave and reaches over to take the boy's fist from where it was clenched on the table, flattening it and entwining their fingers. Thankfully, Blaine doesn't pull away. "What's wrong?"

"You didn't show last night." His honey eyes flick up, taking in Kurt's surprised face, and then jump back down to his partially untouched oatmeal.

"Oh! I had Quidditch. It was a double practice and afterwards, I was so exhausted that I just…I forgot. I'm sorry." The Slytherin pulls Blaine's knuckles to his mouth and kisses them gently, hoping that his boyfriend would let it go. But Blaine's eyes are back on his face again, and they're searching for something under the surface. Kurt swallows. "Is there something else?"

"I exchanged some words with Finn last night."

"Nice, friendly words?"

"Not exactly."

Kurt arches his brow. "What did you say?"

"It wasn't me!" Blaine sputters out indignantly. "Why do you always assume it's _my _fault?"

"Because you're instigating and protective and Finn's a big pussy, so obviously, you must have started it." He lets go of Blaine's hand in order to rub a few circles into his back. "What happened?"

Blaine has every intention of telling Kurt exactly what Finn had said, but when he looks up and sees the concern and curiosity in his eyes, the words dry up in his throat. He doesn't know why, or how, but suddenly it doesn't matter that much at all. So he lets his eyes run over Kurt's face, taking in his impish, beautiful face and leans over to kiss the side of his lips.

"It doesn't matter."

* * *

><p>"Hudson."<p>

It's the only warning he gets before Sebastian is invading his personal space. Finn shifts a little farther down the book shelf. "What?"

"I joined the Quidditch team."

Finn blinks twice. "Why?"

"To get closer to your Kurt GayFace Hummel. Obviously." He shoves a few books out of his way and perches on the windowsill. Finn's still staring at him blankly, so Sebastian sighs and scrubs an exasperated hand over his nauseatingly handsome face. "Look, being near that sickeningly homosexual Gryffindor will help me find his weaknesses and –"

"I don't want you messing around with Kurt. And stop calling him gay all the time. You are too, remember?" Finn interrupts, avoiding Sebastian's eyes as he pulls a text titled _Ancient Runes for Dummies_ and tosses it onto the stone floor. "I thought you were going to focus on Anderson."

"And I thought you were serious about breaking them up."

"I am!"

Sebastian regards them with a little smirk, his head titled to the side. "Hudson, are you sure you don't just want what you can't have?"

"What?"

"Why all of a sudden do you think you want Hummel?" Finn's silent. "I mean, are you gay?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Um…"

"What happened to Rachel, anyway?"

"Sebastian, look…I like Kurt. Stop asking questions and just do what we planned, okay?" He's staring at his feet and his knuckles are turning white from holding the book so tightly.

"Hudson, I'm not one for feelings and such, but I think you need to do some serious soul searching. Obviously your psychological standing is not so stable." Sebastian reaches up and smoothes the lapel of Finn's robes. "But don't worry, I plan on getting into Blaine's sinfully well-fitting pants whatever your motives are, because I have motives of my own."

He slaps the Gryffindor curtly on the cheek and grins widely. "Have a good weekend!"

Finn watches him go with a growing doubt in his chest and the uncomfortable feeling of making a huge mistake.

* * *

><p>"Hey." Kurt half expects it to be Blaine, but Blaine's supposed to be working on Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts or <em>something<em>, so he's not surprised when Finn catches up with his fast pace, smile already beginning on his forever-happy face. "Doing some light reading?"

The Frankenteen pokes curiously at the text balanced on Kurt's hands; it throws him off balance a little, and he has to slow his pace, but Finn helps him support it as they walk through the corridor. The Slytherin swallows a sigh and flips another page. "Unfortunately, this is the only thing standing between me and a Troll in Astronomy."

Finn leans closer, brown eyes scanning the text. "I'm actually pretty good at it. Need help?"

Kurt starts to say no, because Finn's never been very good at anything academic and they're still walking awkwardly together, weaving between students and supporting a 1,000 page text, but Finn had pointed out a few stars on New Years and honestly, Kurt wasn't about to find it himself. So he nods and Finn jabs a finger at the page randomly, grinning.

"That's the one you're looking for, right?"

He's pointing at a constellation that vaguely resembled a very chubby cat. Kurt lowers his head until his nose is nearly touching the page and, after a moment of consideration, clucks his tongue appreciatively.

"Thank you! I've been looking for that one for ages." He sidesteps a first year with a huge, pulsing boil on his arm (a hex he'd once used on Blaine – he feels a rush of guilt, because the boy honestly does look in pain) and dog-ears the page despite the detrimental nature.

He's showing it into his bag when Finn speaks up again.

"It's one of the hardest to find," He says proudly, giving a crooked smile when Kurt raises his eyebrows, impressed. "I'm not very good at Charms or Potions or whatever, but I could probably tell you any star in the whole sky. It's a dumb talent, but whatever."

Kurt opens his mouth to disagree, but his mouth doesn't cooperate. He's suddenly thinking of Blaine, of the distraught way he'd been poking at his oatmeal that morning, and nibbles roughly on his bottom lip. Finn notices.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, um…Can I ask you something?"

Finn pauses and, glancing around, takes him by the elbow and pulls him to a stop by a wide window. "Of course."

"Did you say something to Blaine last night?"

The Frankenteen looks down at his feet uncomfortably. "I…I mean, yeah. But I just told him the truth."

"And what's the truth, exactly?"

"That you're too good for him. That he's always been hurting you, Kurt, ever since second year, and he's not about to do a 360 turn."

There's a silence between them, as Kurt gapes like a fish out of water and Finn looks at him with an enormous amount of sincerity and hurt and longing in his face that Kurt has turn away. He feels words bubbling up his throat, important words, angry words, and this time, he doesn't try to push them down.

"Blaine is the most sincere, beautiful, caring, hilarious, stubborn person I've ever met," He starts shakily, marine eyes meeting chocolate ones. "I'm in love with him, Finn. Do you know what that means? That means I truth him, and support him, and would do anything for him. Sometimes things fall apart. I know that, but I'd rather fall apart in front of him than anyone else. So take your truth and shove it up your ass, okay? You had your chance."

Feeling satisfied, and like a badass, he turns and stomps away.

* * *

><p>Blaine's sitting cross-legged on the edge of the Great Lake, scribbling the start of his Transfiguration essay when the crunching of boots on the rocky sand reaches his ears. When he looks up, honey eyes squinting as the sun streamed into them, and a familiar face comes into view.<p>

"Hey, gorgeous."

He glances back down at his parchment. "Sebastian."

The Slytherin drops down beside him and stretches out his long legs, leaning back on his hands. "You know, you still owe me for New Years."

"How do you figure?"

"I gave you a pretty good dance, didn't I?" When Blaine looks up, he winks. The Gryffindor gives a tiny, entirely insincere smile that somehow irritates Sebastian more than just a cold shoulder. "So Anderson, you and me, Hogsmeade? Next weekend, maybe?"

"I'm busy."

"Oh? Well, what about-?"

"I'm perpetually busy, Sebastian. With Kurt. Okay?"

The taller boy arches an eyebrow and sits up a little straighter. "Calm down, Mr. Arrogance. I just want to hang out with you. As friends. Sure, you're like the definition of sex and every now and then I'll have a steamy sex dream about you, but…we could be friends."

Blaine rolls his eyes. "I didn't know the word 'friend' existed in your vocabulary."

"For you, I'm willing to make an exception." Sebastian's Cheshire smile is back, and he leans over to knock their shoulders together. "This'll be fun."

Blaine shakes his head in disbelief. "We'll see."

"So, what should we do as friends?" He asks drawlingly, waving a hand at the air as if it was full of possibilities. "Do friends make out?"

"No, Sebastian."

"Well, what are we—"

"How about you're very quiet so that I can finish this essay before tonight?"

Sebastian perks up. "Oh, hot plans for tonight, Anderson?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"If Kurt doesn't bail again." It slips out before he can stop it and Sebastian's looking at him curiously, one eyebrow arched into his dirty blonde hair. Blaine clears his throats and adds hurriedly, "He had Quidditch last night, so he just…He forgot."

Sebastian doesn't say anything; he just nods and draws a few shapes in the sand near Blaine's thigh, the wheels between his bright eyes turning quickly. Blaine looks out over the water, closing his eyes lazily as the sun warms his face, and barely notices when Sebastian shifts a little closer to him. They sit like that for a few minutes in silence. The sound of the lake washing onto the shoreline ever so gently is rhythmic and smooth, and soon Blaine's nearly falling asleep.

And then there's a little cough and a, "How's the essay coming, Blaine?" and he opens his eyes to find his boyfriend standing a few feet away. Kurt's eyes aren't even on him; they're locked on the smug grin that Sebastian had whipped out the second the other Slytherin had appeared.

"Kurt!" He scrambles off the rocky sand and wipes his palms on his slacks, effectively kicking Sebastian in the shin in his haste. "Is it seven already? It can't be, the sun hasn't even gone down! I was trying to finish the Transfiguration paper, but I kept getting distracted by the waves and stuff, but I honestly didn't forget our date, I sw—"

Sebastian's snort interrupts him. "Breathe, Anderson, Jesus. Not even Hummel's low standards include bumbling idiots."

"Um—"

"Save it for the Quidditch pitch, Smyth. I figure you're going to need a lot more training tomorrow…I think I'm playing Beater since Olivia is out sick." The threat is obvious and cold; Sebastian sneers at it, but he instinctually folds his arms over his chest and turns to Blaine.

"I guess I'll see you later, _friend_."

Kurt sends an obscene hand gesture at his back as he struts away. Blaine ignores it in order to wrap him in a tight, unyielding hug that the boy can't help but melt into. He tucks his nose into the crook of Kurt's neck, breathing him in, and kisses the skin that he can reach. The taller boy laughs quietly and tells him that it tickles, but the laugh feels hollow and insecure and Blaine looks back to peer into his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He reaches up and traces Blaine's jaw, wide marine eyes drinking in his face. "I just missed you today. That's all."

But when they kiss, and Kurt's fingers tangle in his hair and press at the base of his neck, Blaine can't help but taste artificiality.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Whew, sorry for such a late update. My life is sucking up all my writing time, not to mention my creativity. : _**

**_I'm so grateful for all your reviews and such! Hopefully next update will be faster._**

**_PLEASE REVIEW. :)_****_ I love them, and you. Thank you for reading!_**

**_Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Review._**


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